Of Fire and Stars
by Gecco
Summary: A Gimli centric story. Ever wonder what Gimli was doing during the 'Hobbit'?
1. Unexpected

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 1)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for extreme violence, in later chapters)

Warnings: Major Gimli Angst

Archive: If you want it you got it

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few of the original characters, Gimli and all the other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf comes across Beorn on his way to the Lonely Mountain, and Beorn shows him something he's found in the woods. Takes place during 'The Hobbit', a story about a certain Dwarf, that would later become one of the Nine Walkers. His past and the hardships that he's had to endure.

Notes: This is a 'book verse' fic and not a 'movie verse' fic. I'm trying to stay in 'canon' as much as possible with this fic, but since Tolkien told us so little about Dwarven society, I'm adding my own speculations. I'm also stretching Tolkien's whole Dwarves only love once thing. I do think Dwarves only fall in love once and once they find that someone they won't settle for anyone else. But until then (like most guys) all bets are off. Sex is not Love, it can be a major part of it but the act itself is not love. Big thanks to my wonderful beta reader Morrighan and all her helpful nit-picking ~_^.

More Notes: If you find yourself saying "I don't think it happened that way!". Well, then go do your own. This is only one version and there is a crying need for more Gimli centric fics ~_^.

**Newly added notes: A huge thank you to Little My, for double beta-reading this chapter and really cleaning it up! *sigh* I think I'm in love ^_^!**

~~~

"Something Unexpected"

~~~

It was early dawn as a tall figure with a staff made its way on a path through the trees of Mirkwood. He walked swiftly, for he still had a ways to go and his mission was important, and, more to the point, he was incredibly hungry. 

If he hurried he would be able to spare a little time with the Elves to rest a while and get something for his gnawing stomach. 

Pulling his dark cloak tighter about himself to ward against the early morning chill, Gandalf cursed not for the first time his lack of a horse as he walked briskly towards the Lonely Mountain. And more specifically, towards the camp of the Elves and Lake Men waiting to lay siege to the mountain. 

He would have to hurry for he brought tidings from the north of the massing of a Goblin army that was already on its way. He also needed to check up on Thorin's company, not to mention watch out for little Bilbo in the coming battle.

_Confound it! How that party got into such mischief with him not there!_ he snorted to himself. 

"If it's not trolls, or getting lost, it's instigating a war!" he grumbled aloud.

He'd heard from some Elves (for Elves are always ones for gossip and the latest news) that the Elven King's greed had gotten the better of him and he had taken an army to the Lonely Mountain for a share of the treasure. He had taken not only two of his older sons but also his youngest to this battle, obviously thinking it would be a good experience for the young archer. 

"As if I need more to worry about!" he groused to himself.

The young Elf's part in the tapestry of Middle Earth did not come into play yet, and would not for many years. Gandalf could not explain it but something told him, a feeling in his marrow, that Thranduil's child would play a key role in a coming storm that grew, even now, unknown to all except a few such as himself. A dark storm that would change Middle Earth and shape its destiny. 

And he had made it his prerogative to look out for these key players in that coming destiny, and hope they managed to stay alive to fulfill it. Luckily for Gandalf a few of those key players were not even born yet.

But for now his main concern was the coming battle and stopping those fool Men, Elves, and soon-to-arrive Dwarves (from the Iron Hills, not Thorin and Company) from destroying each other, and to somehow work together to fight the real enemy.

So lost in his thoughts was Gandalf that he almost walked right by an enormous Man standing to the left of his path. He came to a halt at the Man's seeming sudden appearance. It was the skin-changer, Beorn. He chided himself for not sensing the Man earlier. 

"Beorn, I was not expecting to see you around here," he said, mildly surprised. For truth was, he had thought he had seen the last of the skin-changer for some time, after he made sure Thorin and the others had returned the ponies they'd borrowed before entering Mirkwood. 

Beorn let out a loud laugh and walking up to the tall Wizard, gave him a friendly whack on the back that nearly knocked Gandalf off his feet.

"Gandalf! I almost didn't recognize you with that cloak. Luckily I recognized that Wizard stink of yours!" he said, the grin on his big face nearly hidden by his bushy black beard. He did not seem to see or care, about the Wizard's insulted reaction to his comment about his 'stink'. 

"As for why I'm here, there's the smell of a coming battle in the air. The birds are all singing about it. And I intend to be a part of it!" he boomed in his loud voice, crossing his large arms over his huge chest as if stating an obvious fact. 

"Well, good for you. I too wish to take part, and I am on my way there now-- with urgent tidings, in fact," Gandalf said as he straightened his tall pointy hat, preparing to leave. "Now, if you'll excuse me I must be goi-" but he was interrupted by the were-bear.

"Hold up, now! I stopped you for a reason, not because I wanted to say 'good morning' or 'hello'," he said rudely. "I stopped you because I have a question to ask. And I figured it might answer a little riddle I found in the woods yesterday."

Gandalf was feeling decidedly put out by now, not to mention somewhat irritated (though you would never have guessed by looking at him, and even if he had Beorn would probably not have cared anyway). But being a Wizard, and a fairly wise one at that, he decided to see what Beorn wanted to know. And, with luck, answer it quickly and be on his way.

"Oh now? And what question is that?" asked Gandalf as he leaned against his staff, peering up at the great bear of a Man that towered over him.

Unfolding his great arms, Beorn put one hand on his hip while he stroked his thick beard in thought. 

"Those dwarves-- fourteen I believe it was, with that small rabbit one."

"Yes, that was Thorin's company and Mr. Baggins."

"Yes, them! Now, did any of those Dwarves have cubs?"

Both of Gandalf's bushy eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise at this. This was definitely not the question Gandalf was expecting from the hulking man. _Cubs?_ It took him a moment to answer the large Man as he got his mind back on track.

"Well yes," he started. "Fili and Kili are Thorin's sisters-sons but he has none of his own; the same goes for the others. But Balin has two daughters and one boy. Dori had two boys but they were killed by plague. Then there's Gloin's boy-" Once again, he was rudely interrupted.

"If I wanted to know about all of that, I would have asked! All I wanted to know was if they had any cubs. And now I know," Beorn snorted, then turned and started to walk back into the forest.

Gandalf watched his retreating form until it disappeared into the trees. Shaking his head at the strange encounter, he started walking once more, then stopped to glance again to where Beorn had disappeared. 

He was a bit befuddled at such a queer question, and though he hated to admit it, he was quite intrigued as to what had made Beorn ask it.

_I have no time for this!_ he chided himself and started again down the path leading to the Lonely Mountain. 

_If I want to get something to eat and rest awhile before that fool Thranduil starts bandying threats about with Thorin , then I must leave this strange business for another time_, he told himself as he walked on. 

The Mountain looming ahead was painted orange and pink from the rising sun, and flocks of birds swirled and circled in the distance. 

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get Beorn's question out of his head. _Did any of those Dwarves have cubs? Why would Beorn ask such a strange question? Beorn was not the kind of person to wonder, let alone care if someone he'd only just met had children._ Gandalf suddenly stopped, eyes going wide. _Unless….._

"Beorn!" he yelled as he ran back to where he had seen Beorn disappear into the woods. 

~~~

It took much rushing about and searching, but Gandalf finally found Beorn again lumbering through the wood. Gandalf matched his pace to Beorn's, walking to his right and a little behind. Beorn had spared him a glance and then seemed to ignore the Wizard's presence. 

"If I may ask?" Gandalf started.

"You may," Beorn said, not even bothering to look at the Wizard as he continued on his way.

"What was it, pray tell, that brought about your question?" he asked. Though he had a terrible feeling and was quite anxious to find out, he made his question sound as trivial as if he was asking Beorn what he thought of the weather.

"If you follow me I'll show you," Beorn rumbled and began his story.

"I was out yesterday afternoon making my way to the mountain, when I came upon some tracks and a strange scent-- one I hadn't smelled before, but there was something familiar about it. And since the tracks were headed in the same direction I was headed, I decided to follow them," Beorn told him as they moved through the trees and brush. Gandalf could now see a clearing up ahead, and it was obviously where the skin-changer was headed.

"I followed the tracks to this clearing. And what do I find? But a friend laying murdered!" he growled. 

They then entered the clearing. It was fairly small but with enough room to accommodate an eight man camp with horses. A medium-sized tree grew near the center of the clearing with what appeared to be a large sack tied to one of its branches. Occasionally Gandalf could see movement from the sack as something thrashed in it. There was some grass and a few weeds growing but the clearing's floor was mainly of light gray sheet rock. There also appeared to be the start of a small fire with bits of wood scattered about the clearing. It looked as if a struggle had taken place, as if someone had been in the process of building a fire when they were suddenly attacked.

"Look! There she is, poor thing. I had talked to her just three days before."

Beorn pointed to one side of the clearing where the carcass of a deer was lying, its head at an odd angle. Gandalf raised an eyebrow. It was now clear that whoever had killed the deer had made the camp in the clearing with intentions of lighting a fire to cook it. 

"I see," he said, before turning his attention back to the tree and the hanging sack, and more importantly its struggling contents. "I don't suppose that sack over there contains this 'riddle' of yours?" Gandalf asked.

Beorn looked up from shaking his head sadly at the dead doe. "What?" he said in confusion before catching Gandalf's meaning. "Oh, yes! That's the riddle and a very mean one at that. The most ill-tempered creature I've ever come across! If I didn't know better I would say he was half badger!" And that was truly something for Beorn to make such a remark, for Beorn was well known for his own ill-temper. "I was wondering what to do with him when I spotted you," he said.

Gandalf watched as the huge Man walked over to the tree and untied the large sack from the branch, then picked it up one handed as if it weighed nothing. Whatever was in the sack stopped struggling and went still. 

On closer inspection of the tan-colored sack, Gandalf realized it was a goblin's kidknapsack (a special type of sack that had a small spell it which muted anything in it. So as soon as the sack was closed no sound could escape from it, no matter how loud. Perfect for kidnapping people). Obviously Beorn had gotten it from one of his many goblin victims. 

He watched with anticipation as Beorn began to untie the sack, though you couldn't tell by looking at him leaning casually on his staff.

Beorn finally opened the sack and they were both greeted by a truly menacing growl from within. Beorn reached into the sack with surprising speed and grabbed hold of its contents, for it had started to thrash madly, and cursing that could peel the bark off trees could be heard. Having apparently gotten a firm grip whatever it was, Beorn lifted his arm and pulled out one of the scruffiest, downright wildest looking Dwarves you have ever seen.

Beorn's large hand held the young Dwarf by his long thick hair near the back of his head, as if he had tried to get hold of him by the scruff of the neck. He wore an old faded and ripped red shirt with no sleeves, a pair of simple britches that had been mended many times by the look of them, and only one scuffed up brown boot on one of his kicking feet. He also wore a thick leather belt specially made so one could attach and carry heavy weapons and pouches, though none were attached just then. It was the only thing on the Dwarf that was not falling apart.

As for the Dwarf himself he was filthy with dust, dirt, and what looked to be the remains of some coal soot. His hair and short beard (short because of his young age) were tangled with leaves and dirt, obviously having not had a proper grooming in some time. Beorn had also apparently managed to tie his hands behind his back with some thick rope. The Dwarf glared balefully at Beorn with deep glittering brown eyes, white teeth bared in a snarl, growling, all the while being held only by his hair many feet above the ground by the huge Man.

Gandalf almost dropped his staff. He knew this Dwarf! He had known him since before he could crawl. And what happened next almost made the Wizard's heart stop.

"Well, cub! What do ya have to say for yourself! You little killer of innocent deer!" Beorn boomed. The Dwarf had stopped struggling and Beorn made the mistake of holding the young Dwarf closer to his face to intimidate him.

"Cub! I am no cub! I'm probably older than you are! You ass! And as for what I have to say: GO BOIL YOUR HEAD!" the Dwarf bellowed. And with that he kicked Beorn right in the face (with the foot that had the boot on it, of course).

Beorn let out a deafening roar that made him sound more like a bear than a Man. He stumbled back, nearly dropping the Dwarf as he clutched at his now very broken nose with his other huge hand. He bellowed and cursed for a while, then he went quiet, and the air seemed to become oppressively thick. 

No one had ever dared talk to Beorn that way, let alone break his nose. Beorn dropped his hand (the one holding his nose) to his side where it clenched into a fist. Then he looked at the glaring Dwarf, still dangling from his other fist, with a strange light in his eyes. Blood from his nose dribbled thickly over his mouth, running into his beard and staining the lower half of his face red. It made him look truly savage. Then Beorn spoke in a deep menacing voice that made a shiver run up even Gandalf's spine, powerful Wizard though he was. 

"What would you say, Dwarf, if I told you that I'm going to rip you limb from limb, grind your bones into flour, and eat you?

"I hope you choke and die of poisoning!" spat the Dwarf, seeming not the least bit frightened.

~~~

There was a deathly silence as they glared at one another. Everything was quiet-- even the air seemed to hold its breath. Gandalf was sure that in a moment he would be forced to watch as Beorn ripped the young Dwarf apart…he hurriedly searched his mind for a spell that he might use to rescue the Dwarf without having to kill the enraged skin-changer. 

But Beorn suddenly threw back his head a let out a deep rolling laugh that echoed all around. Then he turned to Gandalf, still chuckling.

"What did I tell you! He's a regular badger! Ha, ha, my opinion of Dwarves keeps getting higher and higher," he laughed loudly, then turned back to the Dwarf who was now struggling again. "I like you, cub!"

"Well I DON'T LIKE YOU! And who the hell are you talking to!? You witless, mangy-" 

The Dwarf suddenly noticed the tall Wizard out of the corner of his eye (since he could not turn his head with Beorn's grip on his hair). 

"Gandalf?!" 

"So you two know each other?" Beorn asked, looking between the two. "Well, good." And with that the huge Man dropped the Dwarf, who landed with a thump and a colorful curse. 

He managed with some difficulty (his hands still tied behind his back) to climb to his feet. Then throwing a withering glare at the still chuckling Man, he stumbled over to Gandalf, keeping a wary eye on the skin-changer as the Wizard grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. Without a word Gandalf unsheathed Glamdring and cut the ropes binding the Dwarf before re-sheathing it again. 

The Dwarf gave a sigh of relief at having his hands free and began to rub his wrists to get the circulation back into them. 

"My thanks, Gandalf," he said. If he had been paying more attention to the strangely silent Wizard and not glaring at Beorn (who was watching with amusement), he might have been able to avoid a painful bump on the head.

*Whack*

But he did not.

"Ow!" he yelped, rubbing his sore head and giving the Wizard a glare, which merely earned him another blow from his staff.

*Whack* 

"Ow!!!" This time a few muttered curses followed, as he rubbed his now twice aching head.

"Gimli, Son Of Gloin, Grandson of Groin!! What in Aule's name are you doing here?!" boomed Gandalf angrily as he loomed over the Dwarf. 

"What I'm doing here is no business but my own!" he grumbled as he crossed his arms in defiance. Needless to say this was not the smartest thing for Gimli to say to the shocked, frustrated, and now quite angry Wizard.

*WHACK!*

"Ow!!!!"

~~~

"Then that bastard sat on me! And shoved my face into the dirt, twisted my arms behind my back and tied me up, then tossed me into that damned sack!" Gimli grumbled, as he finished tying his long dark copper-colored hair into a loose ponytail, except for two long forelocks which were left unbraided. It had taken him a whole hour of grooming with Gandalf's borrowed comb before his hair and beard were completely combed and free of tangles, twigs and other things. He had even managed to wash most of the dirt and grime off in a nearby stream that Beorn had showed them. 

"Then you came along," he said, getting up, a bit embarrassed remembering his behavior that morning. "I thank you again, Gandalf, I am at your service." He bowed low in proper Dwarf fashion to the Wizard before sitting back down. Then he turned a troubled gaze to the flames and their cooking lunch. 

Gandalf sat quietly, listening thoughtfully and smoking his beloved pipe across the fire from the now silent Dwarf. 

__

That was not the whole story. What was Gimli doing on his way to the Iron Hills? And where are his supplies? Gandalf asked himself, puzzled_. All he seems to have are his axes and the clothes on his back. There's something different about him as well, something in his eyes that I can't place. _

Something was troubling Gimli-- something that was weighing heavily on the Dwarf's heart, but Gandalf decided to let Gimli keep his secrets until after their meal. Gimli looked underweight as if he hadn't been eating regularly, and he also had a few new scars on his arms and shoulders that he did not have last Gandalf saw him. He would get to the bottom of this mystery, but for now he left Gimli alone.

Beorn had left them to their own devices earlier. Gandalf suspected it had to do with the two large cuts of meat roasting above the flames and the deer carcass Gimli had butchered lying not a yard away. Beorn did not eat meat, for he could talk with animals and considered them his friends and he their guardian. 

It had been quite the scene when Beorn had tried to take the deer carcass off to bury it. Needless to say, Gandalf's hat now had a rip in it, and Gimli had some new scrapes and bruises. Beorn had found out the hard way that not only are Dwarves immensely strong for their height, but that their beards hide powerful jaws and rather large sharp canine teeth. Beorn now sported some nasty bite wounds from when he'd tried to grab the enraged Dwarf in the fight over the deer (never take a starving Dwarf's food).

It was only after much yelling and bellowing that Gandalf had managed to carefully explain to Beorn that Dwarves are primarily meat eaters and needed to hunt for food occasionally. So with grudging assurances from Gimli (under glare and threat of Gandalf's staff) that, yes, the deer's death had been as swift and painless as possible, Beorn reluctantly left the carcass to them.

__

It was late morning, almost noon in the small clearing. The sun was out but the fall air was still crisp, even in the light of the sun's rays. 

__

'So much for rest and good Elvish food with the Elves and Lake Men,' Gandalf grumped to himself, taking in his surroundings. '_Oh well, nothing to be done about it now. Could be worse, but the food could be better though.'_ He eyed the roasting venison. '_But the company's good, even though they're not supposed to be here,' _he thought, observing the young Dwarf sitting across the fire. 

It was hard to imagine that the copper-haired Dwarf, thoughtfully cleaning the blade of one of his axes, was the same one that Beorn had pulled scruffy and snarling out of that sack-- or who had later attacked the skin-changer bare-hand when he had started to walk away with the deer carcass. Gandalf still could not figure out how Gimli had managed to knock the huge Man to the ground. Gandalf shook his head in amazement at the memory; Gimli truly was his mother's child.

Gimli, son and only remaining child of the late Lady Nei Burkdis of the Iron Fists and of Gloin son of Groin of the line of Durin. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the fond memories and old adventures brought up by that name. 

~~~

While females are rarely seen and rarely mentioned when above ground with outsiders, it was actually the Dwarrow-Dams that held true power in Dwarven society. The head of most families was the Matriarch, rather than a male like most other Middle-earth cultures, and Dwarrow-Dams were fierce warriors, as strong and sturdy as the males (if not more so). Most Dwarrow-Dams held high stations of power and many acted as enforcement in keeping the safety and peace of the various Dwarven communities. For even a King must bow before the wishes of a Matriarch. It was truly one of the few female-dominant societies in Middle-earth.

The Great Lady Nei Burkdis was more commonly called Lady Nei, the Axe Goddess! She was a veteran of many battles including the Great War of Dwarves and Orcs (in fact it was during the last great battle, the Battle of Nanduhirion, that she and Gloin met). She was considered very beautiful, even with the jagged scar that ran through her right eye and up into her hairline. While Gimli had inherited his father's deep brown eyes, his 'Fire touch', and unfortunately his sharp tongue, he had inherited his mother's deep copper-colored hair, her good looks, and her skill with an axe. It was now apparent to Gandalf that he had also inherited her terrible temper! Nei was known to be a true hellcat both on and off the battlefield. 

Lady Nei was also one of the few Dwarf women to spend most of her life above ground (though not intentionally, owing mostly to the troubles Thorin's people had suffered in recent years, as well as other factors beyond her control). Most non-Dwarves, how ever would most likely have mistaken her for a young male.

Her weapons of choice had been twin single-blade axes called 'Fire Ripper' and 'Star Smasher', along with a heavy double-bladed battle axe called 'Blood Screamer' (so called for the sound it would make if it was swung at high speeds). All three weapons had been passed down from her father and to him from his mother and so on. And they now belonged to Nei's son, Gimli. 

It was actually the return of these three axes that had truly calmed the young Dwarf down earlier. Beorn had hidden them along with Gimli's missing boot under a bush for safe keeping after he had "sacked" Gimli. It was incredibly lucky that Beorn had come upon the young Dwarf when he had for it had been the one time he had not been near any of his weapons, all of them leaning against the tree waiting to be cleaned. Otherwise their encounter would have definitely been much bloodier. 

It is common knowledge that almost all Dwarves are excellent fighters with or without weapons. But there are some truly gifted Dwarves and Nei as well as her brother, Ni Vigfuss, were from a long line of gifted fighters. In fact Nei's two favorite sayings were: "Anyone can swing an axe! But it takes a Master to wieled it!" and "An axe is cruel and speaks ugly. So it is up to us to make up for its crudeness and wield it with grace!" It is said that Dwarves cannot dance, except in the heat of battle. And woe to the being they choose to dance with! Lady Nei's dancing was both truly wondrous and terrible. 

She had started to teach her children as soon as they were old enough to hold an axe, but only one had inherited her gift for 'dancing'.

Gandalf carefully tapped the old ash out of his pipe before packing a little more weed into its bowl. He caught Gimli eyeing his pipe longingly.

"Would you like to take a few puffs?" he said, offering his pipe.

"My thanks, Gandalf," Gimli said with no little disappointment. "But no, I'm still getting over black-lung." He waved off the offered pipe, and moved instead to start on the next axe to be cleaned. It was 'Fire Ripper'; the wizard could tell by the intricate flame design on both sides of the blade. 

Gandalf gave an approving nod at Gimli's choice to not partake in a few puffs. While Dwarves are one of the few species that could recover from black-lung, an almost guaranteed fatal affliction to other species, it could still kill them, so smoking was wisely avoided until the body had rid itself of the black tare in the lungs. Gandalf took a few more puffs before all fell quiet again as they both returned to their own thoughts.

Nei had given birth to five children--a good number by Dwarf standards. Their first baby was a boy who had black hair like his father and eyes like his mother. They named him Daira. When Daira was five years old Nei gave birth to twin boys, Nin and Gimli (twins being quite common for Dwarves), then two years later a much wished for daughter they named Minal, who took after her father in features and temperament. She was the apple of Gloin's eye; many a day they would sing as Gloin went about his work, little Minal trotting behind, helping as much as she could, giggling and humming happily. Then finally three years after Minal came little Mano who had his father's hair and shocking light gray eyes (very rare for Dwarves).

They lived simply, most would say poorly, no better than wandering peasants. Food was not always plentiful, their clothes worn and mended often, and all of the clothes the children wore were hand-me -downs. The labor was hard, and they were always on the move from place to place. Many, Men, Elves, and occasionally even well-to-do Dwarves looked upon them with scorn as they tried to sell their meager wares. 

But they were happy, and even many, many years later when Gloin was wealthy, well-fed, a lord and hero living in his nice comfortable home in the Lonely Mountain, he would quietly sit in front of his large stone fireplace gazing into the dancing flames, remembering back to simpler days. Back to when he would sit with his beloved Nei in his arms on sunny days, laughing and whispering sweet nothings into the shell of her ear. Giving and getting the occasional playful nip or tug on his beard as well as stealing a kiss whenever the opportunity arose. Watching his younger brother, Oin, swinging a giggling Minal around in his arms as her raven hair whipped about in the air. Daira giving little Mano a piggyback ride as he pointed out the yellow and blue flutter-wings (butterflies), Mano watching with delight and fascination as they floated by. While Nin and Gimli raced around the flowered meadow playing a game of tag, their loose copper hair flying behind them as they dashed and dodged one another. 

Gloin would gladly give up all his wealth, possessions, even his standing to go back to being poor and homeless, just to simply be happy with all his loved ones again (but this is a story for a different time).

Alas, Fate had not been kind to Gloin and Nei. Their family lived in a caravan with several other families, eking out a living delivering goods, and selling their skills and wares to local towns. In fact many Dwarves were homeless since the Worm Smaug stole and took up residence in Erebor. The few who survived were forced to become "the Wandering Folk"… and there were even fewer of them after the Great War of Dwarves and Orcs.

Gandalf could not help feel the sorrow in his heart at the thought of that terrible war. Half-- half!-- of an entire people gone, trying to wipe out an evil that affected all the peoples of Middle-earth. And they had almost done it, alone with no help from Elves or Men. He had been there and had paid witness to the mass slaughter.

As for Gloin and Nei, fate seemed especially cruel. Their caravan was attacked by Orcs and most of the other Dwarves in the caravan were killed, their possessions burned or destroyed. The family managed to get away, along with Gloin's brother, Oin. 

Later that year on a cold rainy day, Gimli's twin Nin had been trampled to death by a horse as they had been playing by the road. He had been six years old. The rider's excuse-- before Gloin slit his throat-- had been that the little "Dirt-rat" had been in his way. Gandalf remembered how Gimli had been mute for over a year from the horror of his twin's death. He was also terrified of horses. He had no problems with ponies, but horses were another matter. Even after he grew older and got over his fear, he was never comfortable around them. 

Two years later Little Mano died of fever sickness. Not even an Elven potion Gandalf had gotten from Elrond himself could save the little boy. Nei and Gloin were grateful to him anyway for trying to save him, even if it had been futile in the end. Thankfully the potion did ease the little one's suffering-- Mano passed peacefully in his sleep as Nei rocked and sang to him. Nei and the rest of the family were able to take comfort in the fact that Mano only knew love in his short life; he would never have to face the cruelties and hardships of Middle-earth. 

Then the whole family almost starved to death years later when the Blue Mountain area suffered a massive drought causing famine to run rampant. Minal died of hunger even with Gloin and Nei's shares of food. The loss of Minal was so hard for Gloin he took a vow never to sing again, and he never did. 

He loved all his children fiercely, but he always had a special place in his heart for his one daughter. She had taken after him in all things: looks, mannerisms, and her developing skills. She had adored her 'Da' and would always help him set their fires (only she, Daira and Gimli had inherited Gloin's Fire touch). One day she had tottered off to pick some light blue flowers that were growing in the small meadow they had set up camp in, and she never came back. When they found her, she was laying peacefully in the grass as if she had just fallen asleep, except she never woke up. 

Several years later Daira was killed by a raiding party of Orcs as they were delivering lumber to a town near Lindon. They literally tore him to pieces before Gimli and Nei could get to him. Daira and Gimli were close, after Nin's death Daira had taken it upon himself to watch out for his younger siblings. It had been Daira who had managed to get Gimli to start talking again after over a year of him being mute. 

Gimli looked up to Daira, even when they were older and his axe and fighting skills had advanced to where he could easily beat his taller brother (Daira being five foot one; Gimli, five feet even) he still adored him. Gimli was devastated at his brother's loss and swore vengeance on any Orcs he would come across forever.

Then about three years ago came the family's greatest tragedy: the loss of Lady Nei. She died in Gloin's arms, yet another victim of the Red Plague that was sweeping the area. 

The Great Lady Nei Burkdis, war hero, wife of Gloin son of Groin and mother to Gimli, died, huddled in a cold rain-soaked alley between two inns with her husband, his brother and her son, because the inn owners didn't want a bunch of greedy and dirty Dwarves in their establishment. 

'_An ignorant shame,' _Gandalf thought disgustedly to himself. '_Is it any small wonder Dwarves are so secretive and suspicious'?_ Then with a final long puff on his pipe Gandalf blew a large smoke ring which both he and Gimli watched as it floated up, turning a deep blue then a dazzling bright white before fading into nothing. 

~~~

"I still can't believe they did it," said Gimli, looking at the mountain that stood proudly in the distance in the noon sun. "I never doubted they would make it. But I was sure Bombur would have died of a stroke, or at least Fili the Fool and Kili the Slow would have killed themselves with their own lack of wit!" snorted Gimli.

"Never?" said Gandalf, regarding Gimli with a cocked eyebrow. 

"Of course I knew they would make it! My Da and Uncle Oin are with them!" said Gimli with pride in his voice. "Not to mention good old Balin and this Hobbit, Bilbo, to keep the others out of trouble." He got up and took the two now cooked chunks of meat from the fire, giving a curse when one slipped off the stick, and fell to the ground. He carefully handed Gandalf the other stick with the meat still on it before gingerly picked up the fallen piece, brushing off the ash and dirt as best he could before sitting back down. "I still wish I could have gone," he sighed quietly, more to himself than to the Wizard, before taking a big bite off of his chunk of meat. 

And Gandalf noticed a troubled look come back to the young Dwarf's eyes once again. Something had happen while Gloin and the others were out on their quest. Gandalf wondered not for the first time if he should have let Gimli come along. They could have used him several times, for he was a very fit and active Dwarf (and would always remain so, throughout his life). He also had a better head than most, though by his behavior earlier one would not have thought so. But it had been up to him, and his and Gloin's final decision on a dark night a year ago had been no. For like young Estel in Rivendell, and Legolas, Gandalf had a feeling in his bones that Gimli had a key roll to play in a coming storm.

….. *a year ago in a small barn in a mining town called Black Hollow, in the Blue Mountains*……..

"You're too young!" said Gloin, firmly.

"I'm sixty-two! I'm not a child!" yelled Gimli.

"You're still too young, Gimli," said Gandalf calmly as he tried without success to find a more comfortable position on his chair, if an upside-down bucket can be called a chair. 

A small fire provided the only light in the dark, old barn that Gloin, Oin, and Gimli called home. They shared the barn with seven other Dwarves, some of whom were sleeping in the unoccupied stalls or were on their shifts in the mines. They as well as Gloin, Oin, and Gimli were almost completely black from head-to-toe from the coal soot, having come off their shifts an hour ago and not having had a wash yet. The barn's other residents were two ponies, one cow and an old swaybacked nag, as well as a few barn cats (one of which was purring, undisturbed by the noise, on Gandalf's lap).

A few of the Dwarves who were going on the quest were also present for this meeting, huddled around the small fire in the center of the barn (carefully made so it would not catch the building on fire).

"Fili and Kili get to go!"

"They're twenty years older than you," sighed Gandalf, absent-mindedly petting the contented cat on his lap.

"So? I'm still faster and stronger than those two spoiled sods! And except for Thorin I'm the best fighter here! You know it!" Gimli argued heatedly.

"Oy!" yelled both Fili and Kili in unison from where they were sitting a few feet away. But a glare from Thorin silenced any insult they might have thrown back.

"No!" said Gloin crossing his arms.

"Da! You know I could help! Gandalf, Thorin, come on! You're taking that useless glob of lard Bombur! What good is he? What are you going to do? Feed him to the Dragon and hope Smaug dies of constipation?" Gimli asked flippantly.

At this almost all the others broke out laughing except of course for the red-faced Bombur. Gandalf, Thorin, and Gloin just barely managed to keep a straight face.

"Why, you little peck! I'm twice the Dwarf you'll ever be!" said Bombur, puffing out his chest angrily.

"I'd say more like three times," said Gimli, eyeing the fat Dwarf's ample gut, not the least bit intimidated.

That had everyone howling, and not even Gandalf, Thorin, or Gloin could hold back the smirks and chuckles after that. 

"You…you!" Bombur was livid.

"Sit down, Bombur," said Thorin, now getting his chuckling under control.

"But Thorin-!" grumbled Bombur. 

But Thorin only shook his head and pointed to where Bifur and Bofur were sitting trying to stifle their laughter. With one last glare at Gimli (who ignored him) he stomped off, mumbling under his breath about 'flyweights and their loose tongues'.

"We know your skill, Gimli, and I would take you along if it were my choice. But it is your father's and Gandalf's decision that you stay. Besides, if we fail, someone will have to tell the tale of our folly," he said, trying to lighten the mood. 

Thorin sympathized with Gimli, for he thought the young Dwarf would make a fine addition to their quest. Gimli had his father's 'Fire Touch' and a remarkable skill with weapons that far surpassed Gloin's and the others, and maybe even his own (though he would never admit it, not even to himself, being too well aware of his own importance to even consider the possibility). He could understand why the young Dwarf was upset; after all he himself had marched to war at the age of fifty three. Thorin gave Gimli's shoulder a fond pat, then moved off, collecting the others before exiting the barn. Gandalf, Gloin, Oin and Gimli were left sitting in the now quiet building, the stillness broken only by the occasional snore.

"But-" Gimli started.

"No buts, boy! The decision is final! You're staying!" said Gloin with his arms crossed over his chest, daring Gimli to say more. Gimli held his tongue but it was clear to all that he hated their decision.

"I'm going to check and make sure all our flint supply is good for the trip," Oin said to Gloin, who nodded in reply. He gave Gimli's shoulder a comforting squeeze and shot him an apologetic look before leaving the barn as well. 

Then Gloin softened. "I know it's hard to stay behind, Gimli. I would like it if you were with us as well," Gloin said with a gentler tone now, unfolding his arms and pulling Gimli into an embrace. Gimli returned the show of affection but with a confused and hurt look on his face. Gloin stepped back and looked at Gimli, studying his expression. 

"There's a good chance your uncle and I won't be coming back," he said. Gimli opened his mouth to say something but Gloin shushed him. "That's why I want you to stay here, so that if something does happen you will still be here to go on and to remember us. You're the only child I have left, Gimli. My heart cracked every time I lost one of you, and when I lost your mother my heart turned to coal. If I lose you my heart would surely crumble to dust!" There was a sorrowful look in his deep brown eyes as he spoke. 

At one time Gloin had been known for his light-hearted and optimistic attitude, but after suffering grief after grief, his demeanor had darkened, and now he was known only for his sharp tongue and gloomy disposition. All the anger and confusion drained out of Gimli, and he reluctantly nodded his acceptance of their decision.

"I still don't like it," he grumped.

"You don't have to," smiled Gloin, giving Gimli's cheek a fond pat before stepping away from him. "Now, if all goes well, I'll send back a message for you to come to Erebor some time next Spring. If not, Gandalf will come and tell you of our demise. You know what to do then. But until then I want you to save up your earnings. I've cut a deal with Brayak about you staying here, so don't worry about the rent as long as you help him out with a few chores. No DRINKING and no FIGHTING! I don't want to hear from Hanar that you and that loudmouth Ulfr have been running wild while we're gone. And I don't want to hear about you messing around with that black-haired filly working at the inn!

"You mean Myia? We're just friends," Gimli said innocently, though the lecherous gleam in his eye at the mention of her name said otherwise. 

"Yes, her!" Gloin said, swatting the now smirking Gimli upside the head. Gloin did not approve of fornicating outside one's own race. He was still quite miffed at finding his son and the human wench on several occasions "hammering the anvil" when said son was supposed to be on break, or worse, working! _Must be from his mother's side_, he thought sourly, remembering all of Nei's suitors and the fights that had followed. Gimli, taking after his mother, was quite the Dwarves -looker, and could be considered comely even by human standards, so there was no shortage of Gimli's 'friends' about. "Think of your mother! She's probably rolling in her tomb as we speak! I swear one day you'll find yourself between some Elf's legs!" groused Gloin.

Just at that moment Gandalf seemed to suddenly suffer a coughing fit. He waved off their questioning looks, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "you have no idea", before returning to his pipe with a twinkle in his gray eyes, as if he knew some humorous secret. Considering that he was a Wizard it was probably the truth. The striped cat on his lap only opened one eye, annoyed that he would ruin such a perfect nap, before going back to sleep. 

__

Strange…

Gloin shook his head at the Wizard and the cat before he returned to lecturing his son. 

"Since those Orc raids on the coal shipments stopped, the mine work should be constant. But if something does happen, make for Turquoise Hill (Turquoise Hill was a small permanent dwarf camp to the west, past a small town called Shiprock, yet still in the Blue Mountain region. It was set up in front of a small hill that was actually the mouth of a turquoise mine.) Master Drow owes me a favor, so he can give you work. If I don't find you here I'll check there," said Gloin as he started to walk in the direction of the barn door. "Remember to keep your axes sharp and clean, do your Forms, don't forget to keep your wages hidden, and watch out for Rowell! There's something dark to that Man, not to mention he's up to something.

"Yes, yes, I know!" said Gimli impatiently, rolling his eyes, annoyed that his father would think he needed reminding. He followed Gloin out of the barn, leaving the watching Gandalf, still smoking his pipe, and the snoozing cat behind.

…..*back to the present*……..

Gandalf ate about half of his bit of venison before he gave the rest to Gimli, who gladly finished it for him, having consumed his portion of meat in four large bites. After that, Gimli busied himself by stoking the fire and smoking the rest of the venison (so he could have something to eat later), while he listened as Gandalf told him about his rescue of his father and the others from three trolls. He stopped Gandalf every once in awhile to make a comment or ask a question. 

It was now a little past noon, by the angle of the sun.

The two had lapsed back into comfortable silence, broken only by the cracking and pop of the fire, the creak of leather and the occasional clink of the axes now attached to Gimli's belt as he moved around their small camp. 

Gandalf decided that now was as good a time as any to get to the bottom as to why the young Dwarf was here and not where he should be, and to find the cause for the unexplained scars, some of which were still an angry red. He was beginning to become greatly concerned about what had happened to the young Dwarf in the past year.

"Gimli, come over here and sit down," said Gandalf, waving to a space beside him. Gimli finished stoking the fire, then reluctantly came over and sat down as he was told. By the uncomfortable expression on his face and the way he looked everywhere but at the Wizard, he knew what was coming.

"Gimli, what are you doing here?" asked Gandalf calmly.

"I told you. I was on my way to the Iron Hills when a Raven called Vok stopped me and told me about Smaug's death and the Elf King-" But Gandalf interrupted him.

"Gimli, I have known you since before your honorable mother birthed you-- and I know when you are not telling me the whole truth!" Gandalf said sternly, his tone causing Gimli to flinch. 

"What were you doing going to the Iron Hills, anyway? You are not dressed properly for traveling, not even for the proper time of year," continued Gandalf, motioning to Gimli's thin sleeveless red shirt. "You have no supplies with you…" He paused, but Gimli kept his face turned to the fire, silent. "Gimli, why are you not at Black Hollow like your father told you? And how in Aule's name did you get those scars? What happened?" he said softly. 

At first Gandalf thought Gimli would say nothing, for the Dwarf sat stiffly, staring into the flames of their fire and not looking at the Wizard. The silence stretched as Gandalf studied the silent Dwarf, patiently waiting for Gimli to speak. 

Dwarves expressed emotion and feelings mainly through body language and their eyes. In fact Dwarves had an entire language of just body language alone (extremely helpful when one found themselves in a situation that called for silence yet still needing a way to communicate). At the moment Gimli sat beside him with his crossed arms resting atop his bent knees, and his chin resting on his arms. His deep brown eyes were almost completely black, ringed by only a small band of rich brown from under thick eyelashes. The flames from the fire seemed to dance in the depths of their glassy surface. It was then that Gandalf finally recognized the strange look in those eyes that he had noticed but could not identify. He had seen that same look in Gimli's eyes when he was six, mute from the loss of his twin; it was horror and anguish.

Just when Gandalf decided to break the silence, Gimli spoke quietly, hardly above a whisper. 

"It started a month after you and father left…"

In case you were wondering about the strange names for Gimli's family, here's what their mannish names mean.

Mother = Lady Nei Burkdis = Lady Nei Axe Goddess

Older brother = Daira = Earth

Gimli's Twin brother = Nin = Water

Gimli = Fire/Stars

Gimli's sister = Minal = Heaven/Sky

Baby brother = Mano = Spirit

Once again, a big 'Thank you'! To the lovely Miss Little My, who whipped this chapter and others into proper shape ^_^ !


	2. Chains and Fire

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 2)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for extreme violence, in later chapters)

Warnings: Major Gimli Angst

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few of the original characters, Gimli and all the other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli in the year while he and Thorin's company were away on their Quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli then don't read this fic.

Notes: This is Book-version, not the Movie version. If you're interested in seeing and getting an idea of what 'my' Gimli looks like, then check out some of my pics in the gallery at the Axe-Bow website and my Elfwood gallery. A huge thanks again to my lovely Beta-reader Miss Madam Morrighan! 

****

New note: Another big thank you, to Little My for double beta-reading this ^_^!

"It started a month after you and father left…

"Old Bara, the mine owner, finally died. Everyone knew his health had been deteriorating over the last year. I was amazed that he'd lasted as long as he had. If you ask me, I think someone was slipping poison into his nightly ale.

"Well... that meant Rowell, that snake son of his, was now in charge of the mine. We all knew nothing good would come of it, but we needed the work, so what could we do?" said Gimli, with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"Strangely, it seemed that our fears had been for nothing. He didn't change the hours or cut our wages, he even closed the mine for two whole days during the Sickle Moon festival. Except for his unexplained trips away from town, nothing seemed amiss. Everything was running as smooth as glass.

"Since Da and Uncle Oin had left, Ulfr moved into the barn with me to keep me company. Shala finally had her third baby, and Brayak finally finished that ugly sword he's been making for the last year. Some people left and Nidi's father was finally able to buy that old shack behind the bakery, but otherwise everything was just the same as it always was," he sighed, still staring into the flames of their fire.

Gandalf listened quietly from his seat next to the young Dwarf, his staff lying next to him as he watched two birds some distance away swoop and glide in the clear afternoon sky. Any who knew Gandalf knew he was an excellent storyteller (and he never passed up the opportunity to tell a story 'properly') but he was also an excellent listener, absorbing everything that was said, as he was doing now.

"Then we got word that the coal mine to the south of us, Green Ridge, had been shut down because of a sudden outbreak of plague. So now the demand for Black Hollow coal had doubled. We thought nothing of it, outbreaks of plague being so common and all. Their loss would be our gain, the work was now constant, the Orcs seemed to have disappeared, and the profit was up. 

"One thing though… a week before we got news of Green Ridge, Rowell replaced all the coal wagon drivers with some Men he'd hired on one of his absence. Strange lot-- always kept to themselves, never had anything to do with us working the mine or even the townsfolk. 

"But aside from that, everything seemed fine. Some of the town elders even started thinking that maybe the responsibility of running the mine had mellowed him. But we Dwarves kept to our suspicions. A snake can change its skin, but it's still a snake."

"I really wish that we had been wrong, Gandalf," Gimli said quietly, turning his troubled gaze to the silently listening wizard at his side. Gandalf only nodded, urging Gimli to go on with his tale. Taking a deep breath, the Dwarf turned his gaze back to the fire and continued his story.

"For weeks things were quiet as usual, but then that all changed… 

"I was on the day shift in the mines that week. We had only a couple more hours to go before the shift was done and the next shift took over. Me and Ulfr were talking about doing some sparring after we got off, maybe see if Svior wanted to join us, when Morris, one of the Men, yelled down the shaft that the town's meetings bell was ringing. These town meeting had become all too common since Rowell had inherited the mine, and they were almost always a waste of time. So we all stopped our work and made our way back up the shafts…" 

~~~

"I wonder what this one's going to be about?" asked Ulfr with a yawn, as he and Gimli trudged side by side up the maze of dark tunnels with all the other mine workers, the tunnels echoing with their voices and footsteps. 

"My guess is that there was a raid on one of the coal wagons. Either that, or Rowell just wants to make another speech on how to mine coal 'properly' again," snorted Gimli, shifting the heavy pickaxe he was holding to his shoulder. 

"Telling Dwarves how to mine coal 'properly! Can you imagine!?" grumbled a short Dwarf walking behind the two.

"Has that spoiled brat ever even set foot in this mine?" asked a Man walking in front of them, looking over his shoulder.

"And get all dirty?! Are you mad?!" snorted Ulfr in a snobbish high-pitched voice. He was walking with his head held high, nose in the air (as if there was a bad smell), and a swagger in his step, while he held his shovel at his hip like a sword in its scabbard. This had the other workers walking around them laughing as they watched Ulfr do a very good impression of the haughty mine owner. 

Ulfr was Gimli's best friend, a rambunctious Dwarf and a bit of a clown (or as Gloin would say, a loud-mouthed, smart-ass). He was always up for some fun and adventure, with Gimli usually along for the ride (which thrilled the longsuffering Gloin no end). 

Some of the duo's more interesting stunts included getting drunk and having a fistfight on the roof of the town's tavern, being chased by an angry pack of traveling monks (something Ulfr said had apparently upset them), and having occasional games of 'drunk tossing' at the local tavern. And their most infamous incident, when the duo tied a local pimp to the back of a large pig to 'teach him some manners' (after spotting said pimp beating one of his hookers). It took six Men almost an entire day of chasing the squealing pig through the streets of Black Hallow before they were able to corner it and free the rather worse for wear pimp. It was still a local mystery as to how the two had done it.

When they finally reached the entrance to the mine, the large, sweaty and soot-covered group of Dwarves and Men stopped for a few moments to let their eyes adjust. Even on an overcast day such as this one, the light still stung their eyes after so long in the black of the mines. Following that came the usual spitting, picking and hacking in the vain attempt to dislodge the day's accumulated dust from their eyes, ears and noses. When their eyes had finally adjusted they continued on down the incline to the road, laughing and joking with one another. Gimli and Ulfr threw the occasional dirt clod and friendly insult at one another, enjoying their shortened workday.

But as they reached Black Hollow they began to notice a strange silence. Everything looked deserted. Even with a town meeting going on there should have some activity-- people running errands and such, children playing, something, but there was nothing. Only the occasional gust of wind stirred in the empty street as the now quiet group made its way through the small town. 

Then they smelled them…

Gimli knew that reek only too well. 

"Orcs!" he and several other Dwarves shouted in warning to the Men of their group, whose poorer sense of smell would have noticed nothing amiss. They couldn't see them, just the empty dirt road and the shabby gray cobblestone buildings of the town, but their stench was thick in the air. 

Gimli supposed there must have been an attack on the town while they had been down in the mines. Yet strangely nothing looked destroyed; no burning buildings, no bodies, everything was just empty. 

Everyone was tense as they prepared for the Orcs to spring upon them at any moment as they crept through town. Gimli wished for his axes as he tightened his grip on the pickaxe he held, scanning the town for any movement. A quick glance to his left showed Ulfr doing much the same, his shovel at the ready as he looked about with narrowed eyes. Luckily most of the mine workers still had their picks and shovels. They weren't proper weapons but they would do. Gimli could see the determination in his companions: they would not go down without a fight. 

Several of the Men and Dwarves who had families wanted to go to their homes to check on them, but the shift leader ordered them all to stay together and not split up.

All was deathly silent as they reached the town center in front of the Blacksmith's shop. The town bell hung near the open shop, still lightly swinging from its earlier ringing.

"Who rang the bell? I still see no one," said a large Man by the name of Erick, in a whisper as he looked warily about.

"Maybe it was an Orc," said Buri, a Dwarf to Gimli's right.

"Hush!" ordered Hanar, the shift leader. Hanar Fastgeirr was the oldest Dwarf in Black Hollow and well respected by Dwarves and Men alike. 

He was heavily scarred from old battles, including a massive disfiguring scar along the whole left side of his face, from when a troll had cut off part of his face (it was still a mystery as to how he lived to tell the tale). Those who worked the mine looked to him for leadership, even the Men (which displeased the town elders to no end). He reminded Gimli a lot of his relative, old Balin, except Hanar was actually older and more of an old warrior then Balin ever was.

Suddenly the stillness was broken by a sound coming from the dark depths of the open shop. It was the solitary tread of boots and what sounded like the hiccupping whimpers of a crying child coming their way. 

Hanar motioned for the group to hold and stay silent. They all tensed, ready to attack as a tall figure made its way out of the shadows and into the light just outside of the open doors of the shop, yet well away from the stunned, confused and agitated group of mine workers.

The man was tall with a slim build, dressed in fine, well-made clothes. He wore long black boots, black breeches with a deep blue tunic, and a finely made white cloak over his shoulders. He also wore several gold chains about his neck and rings on his uncallussed hands and a gold handled sword in an intricate scabbard at his hip. Clean-shaven with long wheat colored hair, and a straight nose, he would have been quite handsome if not for the ugly sneer that seemed forever etched on his face. 

In his arms he carried a small curly-haired toddler; she was crying as she pushed and hit the man with all her might. But she was so small the man holding her hardly took notice, instead he looked over their group as one would a pack of mangy, begging dogs.

"NeNe! What are you doing with my child!" cried a heavyset man by the name of Farin, as he pushed his way to the front of the group to stand by Hanar. The child, recognizing her father's voice, turned then held out her short chubby arms to him in a futile attempt to reach him, whimpering.

"What is the meaning of this, Rowell?!" demanded Farin angrily as he moved to take his daughter from the Man holding her. Yet all Rowell did was smile and move the struggling tot to his hip, then snapped his fingers with his free hand. At the snap Orcs suddenly boiled out from everywhere, yelling and shrieking. 

"Stay together! Back to back!" ordered Hanar, as the Orcs swarmed around them blocking any escape. They were surrounded, yet the Orcs did not attack. Instead they shrieked and cursed at them in their foul tongue, shaking their scimitars. The ones with bows had them bent at the ready. The motley group of Dwarves and Men roared their own challenges, daring the Orcs to come within striking distance of their picks and shovels.

"Enough!" came an order in a deep hissing voice, and all the Orcs immediately quieted, still keeping their weapons trained on the soot-covered group. 

Some of the orcs moved to make room for the smugly swaggering Rowell and a large powerfully-built goblin that towered at his side. The goblin wore dark ill-repaired, mismatched armor. It was clear that this must have been the goblins chief, as well as the one to give the order for silence. NeNe, whom Rowell still carried, had stopped crying, her small form shaking in fright, her large blue eyes wide as she stared in terror at the monsters around her.

"Traitor!" 

"Deceiver!" 

"Son of a whore!"

"Orc licker!"

" Murderer!" several of the group bellowed in rage at the bored-looking mine owner.

"Now, now! Such language in front of one so young! What do you think about that, child? Very rude, don't you think?" he asked the terrified toddler sweetly as if he were some kindly uncle. When she didn't acknowledge him he took hold of her face and forced her to look at him, causing her to cry out.

"Don't you touch her, you bastard! I'll kill you!" shouted the enraged Farin. Only the swords and spear points of the orcs kept him from charging the mine owner.

"What is the meaning of this, Rowell? You worm! Have you no honor!? You have betrayed us all to the goblins-- is that not enough? Now you must terrorize an innocent babe? Leave her be!" demanded Hanar, his feet planted firmly, head held high in challenge. If there is one thing that most Dwarves cannot tolerate, it is the harming of a child or a Woman.

Rowell let go of NeNe's face and turned to glare at the old Dwarf, ignoring the enraged Farin.

"Hanar." He spat the name as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. "If you wish to keep that hideous head of yours on your shoulders, you will watch your wagging tongue! I am in control; I give the orders! Not Father! Not you! Not those senile old fools that think they rule this town! I rule!!" He was by now shouting angrily at Hanar and the others, and little NeNe started whimpering again. Then as if realizing the unseemliness of his outburst, he calmed and the sneer returned to his flushed face. 

"As for the 'why', it's very simple; profit. Now that the Green Ridge mine is out of the way and the Gillnine mine in the east will be very soon, Black Hollow will be the only reliable source of coal for the whole region. With coal being in such high demand, and me not having to share the earnings…well, you get the idea."

"You're a fool! Who will mine the coal-- you? These goblins?" asked Ulfr sarcastically, standing next to Gimli and holding his shovel at the ready.

"O' course not. You will!" laughed the chief goblin at Rowell's side.

"I'd rather be dead!" growled Gimli, eyes flashing with a barely controlled fire. Ulfr and many of the others echoed his sentiments.

"He speaks for all of us! We will not work for traitorous filth like you!" said Hanar, glaring angrily. 

"Oh, you'll be very good workers… won't they, child?" he said, turning to the silently shivering tot on his hip. "If they don't, I'll just have to let the orcs have their sport with your mother and all the other women and children, won't I?" It was clear to all what he meant to hang over them to get them to work.

"How-w do we know that you-u haven't k-k-killed them all r-ready?" stuttered one of the Men.

At this, Rowell let out a longsuffering sigh. He then gave the goblin chief a nod of his chin, who bellowed out a few orders in the grating Black speech. 

There came a sudden commotion from further down the street to their left, in the direction leading out of town. They could not see what was happening (the orcs around them were blocking their view) but they could hear the sound of many running feet and the snapping of whips with the occasional grunt. A few orcs to their left moved out of the way to let another group of battered Men and Dwarves be driven in to join their surrounded group, closing the gap as soon as the last Man was through. 

It was the workers from the night shift as well as a few Men in town that didn't work the mines. Most were beaten and bruised, and some Men and Dwarves from the night shift were missing as well. No doubt there had been a struggle when the Goblins took over.

"We couldn't stop them, they came upon us so fast! He has all the women and children in the tavern under heavy guard," said the night shift leader as the Man limped over to the old Dwarf. 

He was only about a foot taller than Hanar and much more wiry in build compared to the broad-shouldered Dwarf. He was a dark-skinned Man with deep black eyes and short brown hair by the name of Noko. He was usually good-humored in nature, slow to anger, and a bit stuck in his ways.

"They're alive?"

"Where are the others?"

"My wife, is she okay?"

"My children, are they all there?" 

"Where's my brother?" 

There was a flurry of questions as many of the day shift workers bombarded the newcomers for news of their loved ones. But Rowell broke in, silencing them.

"They're safe… for the time being. But we unfortunately had some casualties-- orcs can get a bit carried away, but that was to be expected," he said with a shrug, as if it was no great loss.

"Traitorous pig!" Noko spat at him, hate shining in his dark eyes, and the others shouted their own insults. Rowell's blue eyes narrowed in irritation at the glaring group.

"If you wish them to stay safe, you'll do as you're told!" he snapped, then a big grin stretched over his face. "Won't you…?"

~~~

"And that's just what we did," Gimli said quietly to the flames of their small fire.

Gandalf listened beside him, picturing the small gloomy mining town nestled between two small eroding mountains that seemed nothing more then two huge piles of cracked and broken stones. Only a few gnarled black trees lived there, their bent forms seeming to weep from their gray surroundings. 

__

Altogether a miserable place, the wizard thought to himself. 

Gimli's broad hands were clenched into fists, their thick knuckles white from the strain. But aside from that and the haunted look in his eyes, there was no outward sign of the turbulent emotions that Gandalf knew must be roiling just under the Dwarf's quietly brooding surface.

"The orcs clapped us in chains, and we were forced to go back and mine the coal for that black-hearted worm. Most of us would have gladly chosen death rather then be a slave, maybe try and take out as many of those foul creatures as we could before being cut down. But we couldn't-- he'd kill the women and little ones. Almost all of them were Humans, but they did have Lady Hildr and her three little ones as well as Nidi's mother and baby brother. So we could do nothing but do as we were told. I don't know how long they kept us down there; felt like years, not letting us see open sky or get fresh air. 

"They beat us for anything they liked: we weren't working fast enough, we were talking, or just 'cause they felt like it. They only gave us their leftover scraps to eat-- I don't even want to imagine what half of it was. For our water they brought down a horse trough. Most of the time it was brackish from the coal dust, and they delighted in us seeing them spitting or pissing in it. Thankfully we had jugs and canisters of food hidden throughout the mine, in case of cave-ins, that they didn't know about. Probably the only thing that kept us all alive," said Gimli, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing his story.

"Rowell would visit occasionally to gloat, telling us about all the fabulous amounts of gold he was making because of us, and to 'keep up the good work'. Always reminding us what he held over our heads, sometimes he'd even bring news of the others, or a message from someone's wife or child. 

"At the same time every day the goblins would let us all rest for three hours, but that was it. I only suppose the reason we were allowed that was because they still needed us to mine the coal for them. By the first week we all took to only using Iglishmek (_1.)_ to talk with one another. Those stupid filth eaters had no idea that we were insulting them and plotting our revenge.

"After the first couple of weeks it then became clear why Rowell had replaced all the wagon drivers; the Men he had hired were in league with him," Gimli snorted in disgust, still gazing at the fire. "They'd continued delivering the coal and bringing back the supplies and food (that we never got), like everything was normal in Black Hollow." 

"As you know, not many people go to the Hollow, bypassing it for Shiprock in the valley, and those that do come are mostly looking for work. The few poor souls that did come were either killed by the orcs or thrown in with the rest of us.

"After about the first two weeks most of the Men had started to drop; the soot and work were too much for them. So Rowell made them shovel and carry the coal down to the storage sheds in town-- under strict guard, of course-- so's they'd last longer. They kept us Dwarves chained in the lower shafts, mining, most of the time in complete darkness. I was chained at first with seven other Dwarves and Men but after several weeks-- it could have been months for all I knew, only Ulfr, Svior, Nidi, and me were left shackled together. The others had dropped from exhaustion to be dragged away by the orcs or moved and chained to another group." 

"That day they had my group in shaft six, and the two orcs watching us had set up a table with two stools, on the other side of the tunnel. Those two lazy scavengers sat there talking and arguing, drinking ale (stolen out of the town tavern) out of good pewter mugs, as we labored, hungry and thirsty."

~~~

The ceiling of shaft six was low, low enough that a tall Man would have to duck his head, but it was also one of the wider tunnels. The orc's table was set up against the far wall of the black tunnel, across from the prisoners. This allowed the two orcs watching the chain gang of four to sit and drink without worrying about flying debris from the workers. 

The only light in the tunnels was from small clumps of luminous lichen growing in a glass cups specially fitted to the sides of the walls throughout the mine. It illuminated the tunnel in a soft milky glow, giving just enough light to work by. The lichen, or what the mine workers called "Pixy-hair", was what they used for light instead of torches for fear of setting off the coal dust and the rest of the mine.

The group of four Dwarves worked steadily at the wall, three using picks and the fourth shoveling the coal bits into a large coal cart. The four were bare from the waist up and completely black, looking almost identical if not for their varying heights and eye color. They each wore a large, thick collar of heavy iron about their necks, connected together by a length of chain. The sound of chains clinking and the ring of pickaxes on stone with the occasional crack of a whip were constant noises throughout the tunnels and shafts of the mine.

A sudden commotion started down one of the other tunnels-- shaft three, if the echoes told true-- drawing the attention of the Dwarves and orcs. As the commotion continued they could start to make out what sounded to be a fight going on-- yelling, cursing and the clash of weapons. 

The two orcs got up from their stools and ran quickly down the tunnel and around the bend leading to the other mine shafts, leaving their unfinished ale and the unguarded Dwarves behind. The orcs had no fear of the them escaping, the end of their long connecting chain being locked to one of the tunnel's thick wooden support beams that were placed strategically throughout the mine shafts to keep the tunnels stable.

"_What's going on_?" signed Svior in Iglishmek to the other three, motioning with his shovel. All of them had stopped working to take advantage of the unexpected break from the backbreaking labor.

"_Sounds like a fight to me. What do you think, Gimli_?" signed Ulfr, dropping his pickaxe in relief before looking to the black figure that stood listening beside him.

"_It's a fight, all right,_" Gimli signed back with a nod, tossing down his own pickaxe as well.

"_Maybe it's an uprising and the others are trying to overthrow Rowell,_" suggested Nidi, still holding on to his pick with uncertainty. He was a soft-spoken Dwarf by nature, and was generally considered a bit of a soft touch. 

He was also the youngest of their group at fifty-eight, though they were all young. The oldest was the sixty-four year old Svior, and Gimli and Ulfr were both sixty-two. It was strange luck that the four found themselves chained together now, when they had been friends long before Rowell's treachery. Being young and of similar ages, and the older Dwarves not giving them much notice, they hung around together getting into all kinds of mischief. Or more precisely, Ulfr and Gimli got into trouble and dragged the other two along. 

"_No, listen to the ring of the strikes. That's orc blades on orc blades_," Gimli signed in answer, though his attention was no longer on that of the commotion but on something across the tunnel from them.

"_He's right, you can tell by that creaking twang of their scimitars. Shoddy work,_" signed Ulfr, shaking his head.

"_But why_?" signed Nidi back, finally dropping his pickaxe.

"_Maybe they realized they've been wiping their asses with fire leaves. How the hump should I know_?" signed Ulfr back exasperatedly (if one can 'sign' exasperation) and in turn getting a warning glare from Svior. 

All three of their shoulders slumped in disappointment, and Nidi let out a dejected sigh, but then a tug on their collars distracted them. Turning their attention in the direction of the tugging they saw Gimli making his way to the small table the orcs had abandoned, chain dragging behind him.

"_Gimli_! _What are you doing?_" signed Nidi frantically.

"_Getting some ale,_" he signed back with a roll of his eyes. Reaching the table, he bypassed the two pewter mugs and picked up the large half full pitcher. Then with a great flourish he took a large swig out of it, closing his eyes to savor the taste. With a toothy smirk, his teeth gleaming a brilliant white in his sooty face, he offered the pitcher to the stunned three.

"_Want some_?" he asked, his deep brown eyes twinkling with mischief. 

"_Are you daft!? The guards could be back any moment! What if they catch you? They'll beat you again for sure, Gimli! Maybe all of us_!" signed Nidi frantically, working himself up into a panic. _"They'll shave off our beards, maybe all our hair! Cut off all our fingers and toes, bite off our noses and ears, hang us up by our testicles, boil us in oil, stick hot pokers in our eyes, peel off all our skin while we're still alive!" _ He gave a yelp as Ulfr smacked him upside the head, cutting off his tirade.

"_Damn, Nit! I don't know what's worse-- you or the orcs_," he signed as he glared at Nidi, who was rubbing the back of his smarting head, looking embarrassed under the miffed scrutiny of the others (except Svior who was glaring holes through Ulfr). Then Ulfr turned and swaggered over to Gimli with a wide smile, chain clinking behind him. 

"_I think I could use a drink, too. Hand it over,_" he signed, taking the dirty pitcher from Gimli. He took a long swig of his own before then handed it to Svior who also took a drink before moving off in the direction of the continuing disturbance, to keep watch in case their guards came back. Gimli and Ulfr even managed to get the nervous Nidi to take a few sips of the ale as well. 

Nidi, being the youngest, was always treated by the others like a little brother (much to his great annoyance). But what the orcs and Men didn't know was that Nidi was also a hermaphrodite, though it was quite obvious to all his fellow Dwarves, what with his scent and softer facial features. 

"_Oy, remember when we stole Bombur's clothes while he was in the smoke house at the Bronzing festival last summer, and he had to run naked through the crowed to get to the supply tents to find some new clothes?_" signed Ulfr, in an attempt to lighten the mood and take their thoughts for a little while away from their dark circumstances. Gimli put the pitcher back on the table so as not to drop it, as the memory of that sunny day made them all chuckle, even in their oppressive surroundings.

"_I still have nightmares_!" signed Gimli, grimacing and giving a shudder at the memory.

"_Or when he stopped at the honeyed meat stand on his way,_" signed Nidi, shoulders shaking in suppressed mirth. 

"_I thought for sure Old Fjalar was going to have a stroke!" _signed Ulf, slapping his knee.

"_What I want to know is why he took off his clothes to begin with_! _What was he doing in the smoke house?" _signed Svior from where he was still keeping watch.

"_I think some things should be left a mystery_!" signed Gimli, and the others nodded their heads in agreement.

That was when Nidi noticed the pitcher again. The four of them had drunk a noticeable amount of the ale, and the sight of it sent all his fears rushing back.

"_What will we do?! The orcs will come back and notice we drank their ale for sure_!" he signed hurriedly.

"_He's right. It was horribly rude of us, wasn't it_?" signed Gimli with a mischievous look, catching Ulfr's eye. There seemed to be a silent communication taking place between the two… then wide toothy grins split both of their faces. 

"_Very rude,_" Ulfr signed back, picking up the pitcher again.

"_Hurry up with whatever you're going to do! The fight's dying down and those two snot-for-brains guards will be back soon._" signed Svior from his lookout position. Nidi came over to him and looked nervously over the older Dwarf's shoulder, ignoring the occasional clinking of chain and tug at his collar as the other two behind him did whatever it was that they were doing. His hand on Svior's bare shoulder trembled ever so slightly, and he jumped when he felt Svior put a broad hand on top of his and give it a reassuring squeeze. Just a simple touch, yet it conveyed so much.

With a clinking of chains Gimli and Ulfr suddenly appeared behind the two, crowding them to look down the tunnel as well. As the four listened they could hear the fighting stop altogether and the cursing and shouting die down to the usual constant, and the sounds of mining resumed. Then came the sound of the returning guards. As soon as they heard that, they quickly scrambled back to their places, picking up their dropped tools again.

Nidi took one last fearful look at the table and the almost empty pitcher of ale, and did a double-take. The pitcher was half full again.

"_How did_…?" he signed, looking at Ulfr and Gimli in confusion, only to be greeted with looks of complete innocence. Svior slapped his hand over his face, shaking his head with a groan. That's when it sunk in.

"_Oh_…" 

"What's this?! Back ta work!!" bellowed one of the orcs, as the two came into view, one carrying a club, the other a whip. The one with the whip then proceeded to give each of them a few harsh lashes, causing them to grunt and yelp in pain, while the other orc yawned sleepily as he sat back down on one of the stools by the table. After the other orc was done lashing the four, satisfied that the pained and glaring Dwarves were working at a proper pace, he joined the other at the small table.

"Stupid dirt-diggers! They'll taste the lash again if they don't keep working!" he snarled to his companion, who was pouring himself a mug from the pitcher, before it was snatched from him. Some of it splashed on the table as the second orc poured some into his own mug. They both took long drafts of the liquid. 

"I've had piss that tasted better then this here beer!" complained the one with the club, glaring at his mug after slamming it down on the table.

"That be the last of the beer in town, so if ya don't like it, tough tit!" said the orc with the whip, taking another swig from his mug.

"Ah, shut your yap!" snarled the other orc before gulping down the rest of it, then refilling his mug and having the pitcher snatched away again. Neither orc noticed the pleased looks in the eyes of the working Dwarves, who watched them as they finished the last of the 'ale' as they argued and talked.

~~~ 

Later that day the four were resting, along with all the other prisoners. The goblins had crowded them all into a large chamber on the second level of the mine, and most were sleeping in complete exhaustion on the floor. The workers had originally used the large chamber to keep the coal carts and coal ponies (the ponies long since eaten by the orcs) while they worked. The chamber allowed the goblins to watch all the prisoners and only worry about guarding one entrance and exit during the prisoners' one rest period. 

Gimli lay on his side in the dark, arms crossed, trying to ignore the steel collar digging into his neck, as he listened to the snores and coughing of his fellow prisoners in the dark. Exhausted as he was, he couldn't sleep for some reason, so he let his mind wander to other things. 

What would Daira, his brother, do if he were here? Had his father and the others made it to the Mountain yet? How would they kill Smaug? Where was Myia now? (And how glad he was that she had run off with a young man by the name of Dreak only a week prior to the orc's takeover.) 

He had been there, along with Ulfr and Myia's sister Shala, to wish them luck and to warn Dreak to take good care of her and to always make her happy. Or Gimli son of Gloin would track him down and rip off his arms. Myia had laughed at this and had given him a playful swat, but Dreak had looked quite pale. Then with a final hug for Shala and kiss on the cheek for Gimli, they watched the couple ride away, leaving them and the gray town behind.

Gimli lay back to back with Svior, who in turn was spooned up with Nidi. The occasional soft gasp, moan and small rustle of movement from behind Gimli spoke that at least two of his fellow prisoners were trying to take some small measure of comfort in one another, despite their bleak surroundings. As cold and tired as everyone was, no one begrudged those that found comfort in another's arms. Ulfr, who lay with his back to him, kept fidgeting before finally turning around to face Gimli.

"_Can't sleep either_?" he signed, and Gimli gave an affirmative nod. Ulfr lifted his head and looked over Gimli's shoulder to the couple behind him before rolling his amber-colored eyes and laying back down, his collar making a muffed clink as it made contact with the stone floor.

"_Those two, at it again! I don't know how they find the energy,_" he signed with a tired yawn. Gimli gave another nod and a yawn of his own.

"_I don't know about Nidi, but Svior told me a while back that Nidi might be 'the one', so leave them be,_" he signed back. Both of Ulfr's eyebrows shot up in a look of surprise.

"_Really_?" Then he frowned and gave a sad shake of his head, thinking of their circumstances, knowing that they'd all probably be dead soon. They both fell still and the quiet stretched out, broken only by the occasional grunt or cough from one of the other prisoners around them.

They could hear Hanar, the old shift leader, arguing heatedly with one of the higher-ranking goblins about something, right outside of the crowded chamber. Hanar and Noko both wore iron collars like the other prisoners, but unlike the rest they were not chained so they could move around. Even the orcs were aware of how dangerous the mine was, so there was still a need for someone with experience and an intimate knowledge of the mine to keep a lookout for potential disasters. After all, the orcs were in the mine too, and would share their prisoners' fate if the mine collapsed. So the two shift leaders, Hanar and Noko, were allowed to roam free in the mine, doing what they had done before Rowell's betrayal, supervising and keeping an eye out for potential dangers. But after Noko had been beaten to death two weeks prior, for stepping in to defend a fellow prisoner from two drunk orcs, Hanar had been forced to do the job of two. 

"_Where are you_?" Ulfr asked, shaking Gimli from his thoughts.

"_Thinking,_" he answered, turning his focus back to Ulfr's amused amber-colored eyes and soot-covered face.

"_What about_?" 

"_Da, Erebor, Myia,_" signed Gimli with a shrug.

Ulfr thought about Thorin's company and their quest, with their wizard guide Tharkun (Staff-man or better known as Gandalf), to take back the Lonely Mountain. It seemed like it had been another lifetime ago that he had stood by Gimli watching his grumpy father Gloin and the others walk away down the dusty gray road and finally out of sight. Watching them disappear over the horizon anything had seemed possible, and both he and Gimli had been full of certainty that the quest would succeed.

It all seemed so futile now, he thought to himself as he studied the brown-eyed Dwarf lying just a few inches in front of him. He must look similar-- tired, hungry, tan skin now completely pitch from the coal soot. Gimli's long, dark copper-colored hair was now tangled and black from filth. The whites of his eyes, startling in the black, strong-featured face, surrounded deep brown pools flecked with gold. They blazed with a fire that burned undiminished, maybe even hotter than before. 

"_We could sure use some of Tharkun's magic about now,"_ Ulfr signed, and Gimli gave a grunt in agreement. The oppressive reality had started to creep back again before Ulfr broke the silence (except for the background noise of the argument still in full swing) once more. "_As for Myia, she's probably doing better than us. Probably causing a ruckus somewhere with Dreak along for the ride,"_ he smiled_. "Remember when you two first met_?" he signed, laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"_How could I forget? This shapely raven-haired Woman gives me a free ale with a wink. Then when I'm not looking, she grabs my bum, making me spit my ale on uncle Oin," _Gimli signed back with a wiggle of his eyebrows, chuckling softly_._

"The look on Oin's face alone was worth a bag of gold!" Ulfr signed, barely suppressing his laughter at the memory. "_Or how about when she punched that drunk right in th-_-" 

But whatever he was going to say was lost as the large orc that Hanar was arguing with suddenly stomped into the chamber, kicking any of the exhausted prisoners not fast enough to get out of his way. He was followed by several smaller goblins and a red-faced Hanar, who was growing even more angered by the large orc's callous treatment of his fellow prisoners. Many were too tired to even wake at the ruckus that was happening around them.

"You can't have six! Two, I told ya! Ya can have two! Ya stupid dirt grubber!" The hulking orc stopped in the middle of the chamber, and turned to yell at the Dwarf. His ugly face with its black and twisted rotting teeth was only centimeters from the Hanar's, who was only barely restraining himself from beating the sneering orc's face in.

__

"This is a job for six, at the very least five Dwarves!" he ground out through clenched teeth, glaring daggers.

"I told ya! Ya can onl--," 

"If you don't want to be buried alive in the next hour, you will let me have the workers I need, before this mine collapses around us all! NOW!!" Hanar bellowed back at the massive orc, fists clenched. 

The orc seemed a bit taken aback by this, the danger perhaps finally sinking in, before his ugly rubbery lips twisted back into their frown. The creature then straightened to his full, height looking imperiously down his long scaly nose at the glowering old Dwarf. There was a long pregnant pause, then the orc spoke.

"Fine-- ya can have four," he said, then he turned to one of the goblins standing behind him. "Hey you! Go get four prisoners, now!" he ordered. Then he turned back to Hanar, his voice dripping with menace and threat.

"If ya ever speak to me like that again, I'll fix the other side of ya face to match the left one! And don't think about tryin' nuthin'!" the orc hissed, as Hanar glared right back. Then with an imperious turn the orc stomped out of the crowded chamber, prisoners and goblins alike scrambling to get out of his way. 

"_What's going on_?" asked Svior, who had sat up like Gimli and Ulfr at the large orc's loud entrance into the chamber. Nidi sat wide-eyed next to him as they tried to make out what was going on in the darkness.

"_I don't know, but Hanar said something about a colla_-" Ulfr's words were cut off with a strangled yelp. 

A large goblin they hadn't noticed slinking about in the dark had grabbed the chain connected to Ulfr's collar and given it a sudden yank. The goblin then began dragging him away. The other three, being connected on the same chain, were dragged along by their necks as well. 

"Here's four of these here Dwarves over here!" yelled the goblin, giving their chain another yank.

"They'll do, bring 'em over," answered one of the orcs at the chamber's entrance 

Gimli held on to his collar, trying not to be choked as he tried to get to his feet, but he kept tripping as he and the other three were dragged over their fellow prisoners in the dark. The large goblin yanked them out of the crowded chamber and into the main tunnel leading to all the intersecting mineshafts as well as the two tunnels that led to the first level and the surface. The four finally came to a stop in front of two bored looking orcs and Hanar, who was glaring holes through the goblin dragging them.

"There you are-- four. Now get ta work!" the goblin sneered at the old Dwarf, dropping their chain before walking, followed by the other two orcs, back to a rowdy group of goblins in the entrance of one of the intersecting tunnels. It looked like they were playing a game of some sort with stones and what appeared to be live rats. 

"_You lads all right_?" asked Hanar.

With a few groans and growls Gimli and the others climbed tiredly to their aching feet, Hanar having to help up a wobbly-legged Nidi. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Svior noticed some movement as he got to his feet. He turned just in time to watch a man walk quickly down one of the intersecting tunnels that led up to the north entrance to the mine, before disappearing into the dark. 

__

That was odd, he thought to himself, for the Man couldn't have been a prisoner; he was too clean and wore good quality work clothes. For a second he thought it was Rowell, but he remembered that Rowell had long wheat colored hair, and the Man he had just seen had short, dark hair. Then it struck him: the Man had to have been one of the Men working for the traitor, one of the wagon drivers, perhaps. _But what's he doing down here, delivering a message or something_? he thought. He decided not to ask the others about it, figuring that it was nothing important, and let the train of thought drop as he made sure Nidi was okay after being dragged from their shortened rest. 

"_Come on, lads. I know you're exhausted but this is a task of the utmost importance,_" Hanar sighed tiredly to them, giving them an understanding look. "_Come on, we must hurry,_" he urged, before starting at a crisp pace down the main tunnel leading to the upper level and the east exit of the mine. 

The four shot each other questioning looks, getting only shrugs in reply. Then with a few last murderous glares at the uncaring orcs still playing their game, the four trotted (single file) tiredly after Hanar, their chains clinking like bells in the tunnels. 

~~~

"_So now I need you four to help me haul down one of the extra support beams we keep just inside the east entrance, down to shaft four,_" Hanar explained to them as they made their way steadily through the maze of shafts and tunnels.

They passed only a few orcs in the tunnels, most of them being in the lower level playing their strange and cruel games as the prisoners rested. The orcs knew they would not try anything in fear of endangering the hostages, so the five were generally left alone as they walked through the mine. 

"_Who would want to damage one of the mine's support beams?" _Nidi asked.

"_I don't know, but whoever it was knew exactly where to damage it, and knows that if that section goes it will collapse the entire mine," _Hanar answered with a growl.

_"Maybe it was one of the orcs that damaged it," _suggested Svior as he gave Nidi a playful bump with his shoulder, which Nidi returned, not really paying attention to what was being said.

"_They wouldn't still be down here if they planned on collapsing the mine on us. Also the damage to the wood was not from a goblin blade, it was the clean cuts of a good axe," _Hanar said, shaking his head.

"_Then it couldn't have been one of us_. _All we have is our picks and shovels. Not to mention none of us is that daft,"_ said Gimli, as he steered around the rotting remains of some unidentified creature on the floor. 

"_But how could someone damage it without being caught by the orcs, or at least being seen by one of us_?" asked Ulfr, his lip curled in disgust as he and the others stepped over a half-eaten dead dog (orcs were not picky in the least about what they ate). 

"_Whoever it was must have snuck in and done it when all the goblins were fighting over that gold coin they found,_" said Hanar as he stroked his normally silver (now black) beard in thought. 

"_So that huge fight was over a gold coin_?" Svior signed in disbelief.

"_That's right, you should have seen them. You would have thought it was a couple of mithril ingots, the way they tore at each other,_" Hanar signed back, his eyes narrowing in disgust at the memory as he led them up the dark tunnel.

"_It doesn't surprise me one bit. Greedy beasts, may their eyes rot out of their empty heads_!" growled Gimli, hawking a spit on an unconscious orc, a broken bottle on the floor next to it, as they walked past.

"_Who would want to collapse the mine? If it's not one of the prisoners or the Orcs, maybe it's Rowell?_" signed Nidi, as he twisted his earlobe in thought. The tunnel had widened enough so that the four no longer walked single file-- Hanar leading, with Gimli and Ulfr behind, followed by Svior and Nidi.

"_I don't know…Rowell is making a ton of gold with this mine. Why would he want to destroy it? Where's the profit in that?" _Gimli said. 

Hanar was now a little farther up the tunnel as the four lagged behind. It was then that Nidi, who was deep in thought, stumbled over something that used to be part of a pony's spine in the dark, causing him to accidentally shove Ulfr from behind, almost knocking him down.

"_Oy! Watch it, Nit! Clumsy fool_! _Svior, can't you keep a leash on your wench_?" Ulfr quipped sarcastically, before shoving Nidi away from him then quickly ducking Svior's swing that was aimed for the back of his head. This in turn caused Gimli's collar to be yanked sharply, and he in turn shoved Ulfr, who shoved him back into Svior. Nidi barely managed to stay out of the now escalating three-way shoving and insult war. 

"_Watch your mouth, yo-- _oof!"

"_Eat dirt!"_

*thud* 

_"Stop it!"_

"Ouch! _Ulfr, you ass-face!"_

"Prick!"

"Come on, stop it!"

*thump*

__

"Don't make me get ugly!"

"Too late!"

"_This, coming_ _from the son of dragon dung!_"

*smack*

"_Go hump a troll!!"_

"Go suck an Elf!!"

*thud, thump_*_

Hanar waded into them, boxing ears and yanking the three growling and cursing combatants apart, stopping the sudden fight. The three now stood quietly, shooting one another glares as they nursed sore ears and smarting heads, except Nidi who stood next to Svior looking nervous. 

"_What is this? I find you four fighting_! _Fighting like chil-_-"

"_Nidi wasn't fighting_, _Hanar,_" pointed out Svior helpfully. The other two nodded their heads in agreement, their spat just a moment before seeming completely forgotten. This was probably not far from the truth, considering that the four, especially Gimli and Ulfr, were constantly getting into fights about something or other.

"Shut up! We have no time for this foolishness-- now get going, before I tan ALL your hides!" Hanar bellowed angrily at them, switching to Common. The four wisely hurried up the tunnel, trying to avoid a swift kick in the bum from the old Dwarf now bringing up the rear. 

They walked in silence for a while as they made the final turn into the main tunnel. They could now see the mouth of the east entrance. The light at the end of the tunnel was almost blinding even at their distance from it, but as they came closer the light became less glaring as their eyes slowly adjusted, and they could now see two sleepy orcs guarding the door. 

They finally got to where five large solid wood beams were stacked against the side wall of the tunnel, about seventeen yards away from the entrance. The two guards only gave them a bored glance before they went back to talking in the Black Speech. The five Dwarves could now see that it was sometime in the late afternoon outside by the length of the shadows, and they gazed out with longing into that world of sunlight.

"_Come on, my lads,_" said Hanar, bringing the four young Dwarves' attention from the outside world just beyond the entrance, and back to the task at hand. 

With sighs of disappointment and groans at seeing what they would have to carry back down, they went to work. The five shuffled into a line and prepared to pick up one of the heavy beams and carry it over their broad shoulders. The beam was so thick and heavy it would have taken nine to ten Men to lift it, but it only took five Dwarves. They had just gotten their thick hands under it, braced to lift it at Hanar's command, when they were all almost knocked off their feet by a sudden blast of gale force wind coming from the entrance.

They, along with the two surprised Orcs, gave varying yelps and curses of surprise as they just barely managed to stay upright in the force of the air suddenly being sucked into the mine like a vacuum. The five Dwarves instinctively lowered their compact forms into a crouch, bracing against the wind as best they could, and the chain connecting the four whipped around like a ribbon in a sharp gust. They huddled together, trying to protect their eyes and faces against the stinging hits of small rocks and dirt from the hurricane-force winds as they tore at their hair and what was left of their clothes.

"WHAT'S GOING ON!!!?" shouted Gimli to Hanar, trying to be heard over the wind as he shielded his face with his thick muscular forearms.

But before Hanar could yell back an answer, the wind stopped as suddenly as it had started, just as if it had never been. They slowly lowered their arms and straightened from their braced positions, looking around in bewilderment. They could now see that the force of the mysterious wind had sucked the two guards more than ten feet into the tunnel.

"What in Mordor was that!?" yelled Nidi, eyes wild, speaking out loud and not in Iglishmek. 

The four young Dwarves turned to Hanar for answers, but he wasn't paying attention to them, or to the two now arguing guards. Instead he stood stock-still, staring hard down the tunnel the way they had come. 

"By Mahal's hammer… protect us," Hanar said in a hoarse whisper.

"What's wrong, Hanar?" asked Svior.

"Do you know what that was?" asked Nidi, as Ulfr gave Hanar's shoulder a shake. 

The four fell into confused silence around the old Dwarf, waiting for him to answer as they peered down the tunnel as well, trying to see what had Hanar's rapt attention. 

Then they heard it, and it sent icy fingers of fear through their hearts and bone-chilling shivers up their spines. Something was coming. It sounded like a strange wailing cry from down in the tunnels, growing louder as if more strange voices were joining it. Whatever it was, it was coming. 

Hanar then turned to look at them, fear and dread in his dark eyes as the wailing grew to a scream. He bellowed the one word that would freeze the heart of any mine worker.

"FIRE!!!" 

He shoved them towards the entrance, breaking them out of their fear-induced paralysis. He didn't need to tell them what to do-- it was pure instinct. They ran as fast as their legs would allow towards their only chance for escape. The two arguing guards were long gone, having turned tail and run at Hanar's bellow. 

The screaming wail was now a roar, seeming to shake the very floor beneath their running feet. With a flood of adrenalin now pumping, all pain and weariness was forgotten as they ran towards the rapidly approaching entrance and the outside world. The sound of their rapid heartbeats pounded in their ears as they raced for their lives. The walls of the tunnel began to illuminate around them with an ominous orange glow. Yet the five didn't dare look back, they knew what was now chasing them: hot death itself.

Svior had a crushing grip on a stumbling Nidi's wrist, and Gimli and Ulfr were right behind followed by Hanar, chains clinking as they ran. They were within six feet of the entrance when a massive force from behind blew them right off their feet, hurling the five Dwarves those last few feet out of the tunnel and into the blinding light of the surface world. They landed hard, roughly nine feet outside the mine entrance, before tumbling down the incline leading to the road.

A jagged gray stone, that stood out of the ground of the incline like some long dead dragon's tooth, caught the chain still connecting the four as they tumbled past. With a vicious yank on their necks it brought the four to a sudden bone-jarring stop. Hanar continued to tumble until he came to a stop at the end of the incline on the gray road. 

There they all lay sprawled, smoking and still, like discarded toys. The fire seemed to scream in rage at their escape, as great dancing pillars of flames spewed from the mine entrance to lick at the sky.

(1) Iglishmek = A non-spoken Dwarven language, made up of body language and sign language. 


	3. Dead Eyes

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 3a)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for extreme violence and disturbing imagery)

Warning: Major, major Gimli angst. If you got a weak stomach, then read with caution. 

Archive: you want it, you got it.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit from this. With the exception of some original characters, Gimli and all the other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: We find out what happened to Gimli during the year while Thorin's company were away on their Quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli? Then don't read this fic.

Notes: This is Book-version, not Movie-version. And thank you, to those lovely people that reviewed this piece of crap fic ~_^. And another BIG thank you to Miss Amidia, for beta-ing and pointing out some major probs. Thank you!

****

More Note: Now re-beta read by the lovely Little My!

~~~

Dead Eyes

~~~

It was several long moments before any of the five bodies began to stir.

Gimli lay sprawled on his back, just trying to get his wind back after having it knocked out of him on impact. Slowly he became aware of a painful compression around his neck and the feeling of sharp stones digging into the tender skin of his back. 

As his breath returned he carefully blinked open his eyes. The light at first made them water and squint, but slowly they adjusted and he found himself staring into a beautiful blue sky. For a few moments he let himself drift in that cloudless afternoon sky-- blues, light-blues, deep-blues, a veritable feast of color for one who had been living in a world of darkness. 

With a groan Gimli finally forced himself to look away from that sky and roll over onto his stomach before levering himself slowly up onto his knees. The thick collar cut painfully into the side of his neck and the underside of his jaw. He could now see that the chain connecting the four was taut, still hooked on the jagged rock sticking out of the incline. 

But just as he was going to crawl over and unhook it, Svior moved to do just that, causing instant relief as the chain went slack. With Gimli's neck now free to move he looked to the others, seeing that they too were all alive and relatively in one piece.

"Feels like Dori tried to pull off my head," grumbled Ulfr, as he crawled slowly up to kneel next to Gimli. "You okay?" he asked, rubbing the skin under his collar.

"No," Gimli grumbled tiredly, rubbing his own neck. "You?" he asked back, looking at the soot-covered figure now sitting beside him, but Ulfr just gave a shrug. 

"The others! What about the others!?" cried Nidi, snapping their attention back to the mine entrance from which they had escaped.

Their dire situation came crashing back down on them like a heavy rockslide, and the four could only watch in silent shock as the flames continued to spew angrily from the mine's blackened entrance. The faces of friends and enemies alike flashed in rapid succession through their minds. Their stomachs twisted in dread at the thought of those faces. Knowing they were still down there, in the mine…burning. 

"By Mahal! They were all down there: Anar, Buri, Veig--- everyone," said Ulfr in a hoarse whisper. Kneeling frozen beside him, Gimli couldn't even bring himself to speak as he watched the dancing fire. He felt numb.

None of the four noticed as Hanar climbed slowly up the incline behind them.

"Do you think any…" Ulfr let his question trail quietly off, realizing the futility of it.

"They're dead," Hanar said simply from behind them. The four slowly tore their gazes from the roaring flames to look at the grizzled old Dwarf.

"No! My father! The others! May- maybe some escaped, like us! Right…right?" Nidi pleaded to Hanar, before looking desperately at the others for some hope. Ulfr looked down, unable to bear the agonized expression in Nidi's glassy honey-brown eyes, while Gimli sadly shook his head.

"Nidi, they were all in the pony alcove, they couldn't have gotten out," Svior said softly.

"No! There's a chance-- the north entrance!

"They're dead! Poor bastards never knew what hit them. Incinerated, they were," Hanar said gravely. He looked down at the four young Dwarves sitting in front of him, watching him with wide eyes. "Take comfort in that! It was probably instantaneous." He snapped his thick fingers for emphasis. 

"What are we to do now?" Ulfr asked, voicing the question on all their minds. 

"We can be of no assistance to the dead, but we may still be of some use to the living!" Hanar barked sharply at them. He turned his attention to Nidi, who now had his face buried in Svior's neck while the black-eyed Dwarf rubbed his back, trying to comfort him. Nidi was the only one out of the five that still had family. Hanar had no children and his mate had been dead for eight winters now; Svior still had some family, but they all lived in Ered Luin. Ulfr had been an orphan since he was thirty-two, and Gimli's only remaining family were on the quest to take back Erebor. 

"Nidi, nothing can be done for your father, but think of your mother and brother-- there may still be a chance to save them," Hanar continued, sympathy shining in his dark eyes. Aside from that, he made no move to comfort the shaking Dwarf in Svior's arms.

The old Dwarf then looked to the other three. Being the oldest they were looking to him for guidance and leadership, taking a deep breath, Hanar gave them one piece of advice that had seen him through hardships in the past. 

"Remember you must be alive to grieve. Grieve later, for now we must fight and survive!" And with that he turned and climbed down the incline again, stopping to wait for them on the gray road.

Gimli, followed by Ulfr, quickly got to his feet. Svior slowly tugged a now quiet Nidi up before they both climbed down the incline with the others to join Hanar, their chains clinking merrily as they moved.

"Hanar's right, we have to help Lady Hildr, Shala, and the others!" Gimli urged, a new determination coming into his eyes.

"What about the rest of the orcs?" Svior said, eager to make their escape.

"With luck, most of the beasts were down in the mine when it blew. But that still leaves the ones guarding the town and the others," Gimli said as he tried unsuccessfully to rub off some of the black soot on his muscular arms. Ulfr was doing the same but also without success; the five dwarves had been down in the mine so long, the coal soot had worked itself into their skin. Only a long soak and a rough scrubbing could get rid of it, so until then the five would have to remain pitch black.

"Not to mention, those two guards must already be at the Hollow by now, sounding the alarm," Ulfr pointed out, resting his elbow casually on Gimli's shoulder.

"Which means we should be long gone before they come and check it out for themselves," Svior said. Nidi stood quietly beside him chewing on his thumbnail, not paying attention. 

"We just have to get out of this whole area. With all the coal veins running through here and the fire going, this whole area is unstable," Ulfr said, as he scanned the gray rocky landscape around them.

"Okay, so we free the hostages, kill all the goblins we can find. Then grab some supplies, and make for Shiprock," Gimli said confidently, looking at the other four, eager to get going. Ulfr nodded his agreement with Gimli's plan, Hanar was busy thinking, not really paying attention to what was being said, Nidi was still chewing on his nail, and Svior looked at Gimli as if he had suddenly sprouted a new head.

"Did something jar loose in your head?!" Svior said in disbelief. Gimli raised an irritated eyebrow. 

"There are only five of us!" Svior continued.

Gimli was now glaring at Svior. "So?"

"So!? We are still chained together!" Svior snapped back, picking up a length of their connecting chain and shaking it in Gimli's face. Gimli knocked his hand away with a warning growl before Svior dropped it in disgust.

"We'll find something to break the chai-" But Svior cut Gimli off, looking as if he were on the verge of attacking him.

"We don't even have weapons! Not even our tools! What in Mordor are we suppose to use?!" Svior yelled in frustration. 

"I don't know, a rock or something!" Ulfr snapped back at Svior, irritated by the shouting.

Svior gave a growl of frustration. Their already frayed nerves were dangerously close to snapping, but neither Hanar nor Nidi seemed to notice the rising tempers as the three squared off.

"We have to get out of here! There's nothing we can do! We'll go to Shiprock, get help-"

"The others will be dead by then!" Gimli snapped, shaking off Ulfr's hand.

"If we go into that town it will be suicide!" Svior growled back, going into a fighting stance.

"We can't abandon them! And only a coward would run off without trying to save them!" Gimli growled right back, fists clenched as he too adopted a fighting stance.

"Only a stupid, empty-headed fool would kill himself for a useless cause!!"

"Svior? Do you think Nidi's going to walk away with you, when there's still a chance to save his mother and brother?" Ulfr asked in Svior in a surprisingly calm voice, motioning to the silent figure at Svior's side with a jerk of his chin. 

Svior slowly looked at the quiet, light brown-eyed Dwarf next to him for several long moments. Then with a tired sigh, he dropped his stance and rubbed at his eyes with one broad hand. Svior knew the answer. No one said anything for a time, then Hanar finally looked up and spoke. 

"Gimli, where are your axes?" he asked.

Gimli looked up from watching Nidi chew on his now bleeding nail. 

"I hid them along with my earnings on the old barn's roof, where no one can see them," he answered before reaching out and knocking Nidi's hand away. "Stop it," he ordered, but Nidi only gave him a blank look.

"Leave him alone," Svior hissed at Gimli. Stepping protectively closer to Nidi who had started to chew on his nail again, Svior gently took hold of Nidi's hand and pulled it away from his mouth, clasping it firmly in his own. 

"What about you Ulfr, Svior? Where are your swords?" Hanar asked, stroking his beard in thought as he tried to devise a plan of rescue and escape.

"My sword is with Gimli's axes," answered Ulfr, as he tried unsuccessfully to finger-comb his tangled and filthy hair. Unable to do anything with his own he started to mess with Gimli's hair, before Gimli smacked his hands away in annoyance.

"Mine's under the floorboards in the store house, behind the tavern, along with my travel pack." Svior said.

"Nidi, what about your knife? Nidi? Nidi!" Not getting a response Hanar reached over and gave the young Dwarf's shoulder a hard shake. This seemed to work, for Nidi blinked a few times and seemed wake up and become aware of his surroundings again.

"Wha-what?" he asked, first looking at Svior who still held his hand, blinking in confusion before realizing it was Hanar who had spoken.

"Your knife, where's your knife?" demanded Hanar, his temper growing short.

"Th- the orcs took it before they put me and Father in chains," he answered, unconsciously reaching up to touch the collar still around his neck. Nidi was surprisingly good with a knife even with his lack of 'warrior-spirit'. Nidi's father was a tanner by trade, specializing in leather goods from belts and wrist-guards to saddles and tack. Nidi was learning the trade, so he and his family were some of the few Dwarves who worked in town instead of in the mine.

"Damn, you'll just have to use one of mine," the old Dwarf grumbled to himself, as he glared at the chain still connecting the four soot-covered Dwarves. Still stroking his beard in deep thought, he looked over the entire length of chain before stopping to examine a particular link between Svior and Gimli. The four fidgeted as they waited for Hanar to tell them his plans, the fire still roaring behind them. Finally Ulfr just couldn't take the silence any longer.

"Come! What is your plan, Ancient One? We are just a bit pressed for time!" he urged flippantly.

Hanar looked up and speared the amber-eyed Dwarf with a withering glare, but Ulfr only rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that caused Gimli to give a snort of amusement, being the only one to hear it.

"Shut up, whelp! Both of you," Hanar snapped, now glaring at both Ulfr and Gimli. "First thing we have to do is get rid of this, before we can do anything else." He picked up the length of chain between Gimli and Svior, then bent down and took a small metal file out of his boot. The others watched in surprise, each wondering how the old Dwarf had managed to hide it, for the goblins had been incredibly thorough, embarrassingly so, when they had checked the prisoners for weapons and the like. Hanar said nothing (one did not live as long as he had without learning some sleight of hand) and quickly filed at one particular link in the chain. When he had finished he looked up and motioned to the others.

"Gimli, Svior, twist the chain until you can't anymore. Twist it hard!" he ordered. Gimli and Svior quickly did as they were told and twisted the chain, each in a different direction. "Nidi, Ulfr, grab hold. Now, pull!" Hanar stepped back as the young Dwarves pulled with all their might.

"Put your backs into it!"

For several long moments it looked like a strange game of tug-of-war--Gimli and Ulfr on one side, Svior and Nidi on the other, groaning with effort as the rough metal chain dug into their bare hands. The gravel scraped and slid under their booted feet as they tried to gain traction. 

"Pull! That's it, lads, pull!" 

Then with a squeal of metal and a resonating 'clink', the thick chain broke, causing them to stumble back before regaining their balance. Now they understood why Hanar had been glaring so intently at the chain before; he had been looking for weak spots. The four were now free-- they still unfortunately wore the heavy iron collars but at least they could now move independently of one another.

"Finally free of that damned chain!" Svior said in relief, giving the broken chain a kick for good measure. Nidi next to him nodded in agreement as he rubbed his sore hands.

"Agreed-- now I can finally get away from your stink!" Gimli joked, as he gave Ulfr a playful push away from him. 

Ulfr only laughed and chucked a few pieces of gravel at Gimli, ducking as Gimli returned fire. Then they both finally wandered over and gave the broken chain a hard look.

"Maybe we should keep it..." Ulfr paused, seeing the other's incredulous looks, then continued with a wicked grin, "...so we can shove it up Rowell's arse when we see him."

"Maybe shove a couple of orcs up there as well," suggested Gimli with a smirk of his own, as he scratched under his thick collar. 

"I-I say we gut him like the traitorous swine he is!" said Nidi, then looked a bit shocked at his own outburst.

"That's the spirit, Nidi!" Ulfr crowed, giving Nidi a friendly whack on the back, and the others nodded and voiced their whole-hearted agreement with Nidi's idea.

Hanar just shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth on the good side of his face. He said nothing, slipping the small file back in his boot as he watched the pitch-black figures in front of him. The whites around their eyes and their flashing teeth were startling, making them look a touch demonic. 

"Alright, lads!" Hanar said, getting their attention again. He motioned for them to come closer and they formed a small circle, listening intently as he spoke.

"Here's the plan, lads. We sneak into town and when we get to the coal sheds, we split up. Gimli, Ulfr, get your weapons and any traveling supplies you've got. Meet us behind the tavern as soon as you can-- avoid any skirmishes with the goblins. We need to keep the element of surprise as long as we can," he ordered, watching as Gimli and Ulfr each gave a sharp nod of understanding, then turned his attention to the other two. "Svior, you and Nidi will come with me. Now come, we must hurry! Rowell could be killing the hostages as we speak!"

With that last dreadful sentence they broke the circle and hurried back towards Black Hollow, Hanar leading with the other four right at his heels. 

~~~

Staying off the main road and ducking behind any cover they found along the way, the five cautiously made their way back to town.

As they got closer to the Hollow they began to see more evidence of the town's orc infestation; broken dishes and bottles, torn clothes, destroyed carts, and even two dead goblins (killed by their fellow goblins in a petty squabble). But worst of all was the occasional carcass, mangled usually to the point of being unidentifiable, most crawling with maggots. Like the remains littering the floor of the upper tunnels in the mine, Gimli noticed (and wished he hadn't) that most of the rotting carcasses looked as if they had been fed on. 

When they finally reached the town the sun had started to make its descent, and Gimli guessed they only had about two hours of light left. Strangely enough, they hadn't run into any orcs on the road (except for the dead ones), and even now as they hid in the shadow of one of the coal sheds they still hadn't seen any orcs or any of Rowell's Men yet. If they didn't know better they would have thought the town was abandoned. 

But as Gimli's mother used to say: 'Just because you can't see a goblin, doesn't mean it's not there'. 

Gimli also figured that most of the goblins were probably holed up in some dark place, waiting for the sun to go down. It was common knowledge that goblins didn't like the daylight, preferring the cover of darkness.

Hanar motioned that it was time to split up. Gimli gave a nod, then getting the 'all clear' sign from Ulfr who was looking around the corner of the shed, darted off in the direction of the old barn with Ulfr at his heels. Hanar and the others went the opposite way towards the tavern.

As Gimli and Ulfr made their way cautiously to the barn, they could see the evidence of the Goblins' destructive occupation of the town. All the gray stone buildings were damaged in some way; most had gaping holes in the walls, doors hanging off their hinges or gone altogether, and smashed windows. Some showed signs of having been burned, and they even passed a building that had completely collapsed into a pile of rubble. The two also had to be careful where they stepped-- refuse and other debris littered the ground, from broken bottles to bodily wastes (needless to say orcs and goblins aren't the cleanest of creatures). But still they saw no orcs, even though the creatures' foul reek hung heavy in the still air.

"I don't understand-- this place should be swarming with orcs," Ulfr signed to Gimli as the two squatted behind a half knocked-down wall. They had switched back to Iglishmek, deciding not to take any chances of being overheard.

"I agree, something's wrong," Gimli signed, scanning the empty street with narrowed eyes, looking for any movement. Seeing none the two quickly darted to another hiding spot, all the while suspiciously looking about.

They finally reached the barn that they had once called home, without incident. Silently they slunk to the side of the barn where the empty rain-barrels were usually stacked; they had used the barrels in the past to climb up to the roof. But as they got there, they saw that they had all been broken into and smashed. Luckily for them, they had other means of getting onto the roof. 

Jabbing his thumb upwards, Gimli signed for Ulfr to give him a boost up. Ulfr nodded, then putting his back to the barn wall, he laced his broad hands together for Gimli to step into. With a hop and a push, Gimli pulled himself onto the roof. He then reached an arm down to the amber-eyed Dwarf below, and with a jump Ulfr grabbed hold and pulled himself up with Gimli's help.

And none to soon, for just as Ulfr pulled himself over, a goblin walked around the corner below them. The two on the roof froze, watching the creature sniff around suspiciously where just moments before they had been standing. Another goblin soon appeared and walked up to the other one. 

"What?" it snapped in a scratchy voice.

"Heard somethin' *sniff, sniff* but can't smell nothin'- 'cept coal *sniff*," the first goblin hissed, looking around in suspicion while the second one started to sniff the air as well. 

Only moving their eyes, the two Dwarves on the roof looked at one another, both coming to the same realization. Not only did the coal-dust cover them from head to toe, staining them completely black, it was apparently masking their scent as well.

The two goblins continued to sniff around, when suddenly a large gray-skinned orc stomped around the corner. It was snarling something under its breath as it yanked a dirty ringed shirt of chain mail over its scaly head, a large rusty (and probably very dull) scimitar hanging on a belt at its side. The two goblins froze and began to cower at the sight of the orc. 

Gimli's jaw dropped as he caught sight of a large pair of breasts before the mail shirt covered the Orc's bare chest.

__

'It's a female?! By Gandalf's beard! A female orc!! he thought in absolute shock, still not quite grasping the concept of what was right in front of his eyes. He had always believed the stories that said all orcs were male, and that orcs and goblins were formed from disgusting and rotting things brought to life by dark magic wielded by some evil hand.

She was hideous; just as ugly and twisted as all the other orcs and goblins he had ever seen. Unlike the obvious differences between male and female Dwarves or male and female Humans, Gimli could see no difference between the sexes of the three creatures below him, now that the chain mail hid the female's chest. 

Gimli felt queasy, finding the idea of male and female orcs and more importantly, orc children, very disturbing. Orc and goblin families. He didn't like those thoughts. Gimli didn't want to think of them as people instead of a bunch of faceless monsters; after all he had suffered at their clawed hands, his vengeance wouldn't allow it. 

The image came to him of his family's old caravan, the wagons burning as orcs leapt about in glee, destroying everything they could, killing any they caught trying to escape. 

Daira's bloodied and mangled body, his limbs scattered about the forest floor. The hollow feeling in his gut as he and his mother searched and picked up those heavy limbs and bits of flesh, so the crows and other scavengers wouldn't get them. 

No, they weren't people! Just monsters…monsters that should be exterminated!! His turbulent thoughts were interrupted as the new arrival below spoke in a loud grating voice.

"What ya' doin' ere!? I told all youz ta' get over to the mine!" the female orc bellowed, spittle flying as she stomped over and punched the first goblin right in the face. With a shriek and a crunch, the goblin went flying back, landing heavily several feet away, unmoving. She then turned her attention to the second one, who was now cowering submissively at her feet.

"We'z 'eard somethin'! We'z just checkin', then we'z go to the mine, like youz say!" the second goblin whined, groveling before her.

Seeing this, her thin rubbery lips pulled back from her rotting black and yellowed teeth into a nasty smile of pleasure. Deciding that she liked the way the goblin looked cowering at her feet, she would not rip off his face, just yet. Grabbing it by its greasy hair she started to drag it away, the goblin squealing the entire way as it scrambled on its hands and knees to keep up.

"Told youz, puss face! I'mz in charge while Illzog'z gone!" she screeched, giving the goblin a couple of hard shakes for emphasis as she stormed away in the direction of the mine. Gimli and Ulfr could now see other orcs and goblins appear out of various shadowed hiding spaces to trail groggily behind the large female as she continued to rant, keeping their distance in case she decided to grab one of them.

"I stuck with all youz shit-for-brainz, toadzs! Can't waits for Illzog back, back with lots of loot and meat! Then we eats White-Cloak and take all his gold! Where'z he at anyway? Not seenz 'im or other meat. Where'z he at?!" she demanded, giving the squealing goblin in her grasp a vicious shaking.

Whatever else she said, the two on the roof weren't able to hear or understand as she disappeared out of sight and their hearing range. The other goblins and orcs trailed quietly behind her before they too disappeared.

Ulfr and Gimli waited a few more moments before they both relaxed with a sigh. Looking out in the direction the orcs had gone, Gimli could see a large column of black smoke in the distance where he knew the mine was located. From their vantage point Gimli could also see that a large sink hole had opened up on the north side of the destroyed town, and he knew it was only a matter of time before more sink holes appeared, but he hoped they'd all be long gone by then. The two eroded mountains stood guard to the north and south on either side of the town. The Blue Mountain range stretched off into the distance as the sun slowly sank in the west, painting everything orange and red.

"Damn, now that was one ugly bitch! Hold up now… Gimli! I think I found you a new woman! Once you get past the smell and the rotting teeth, I'm sure she's a lovely girl!" Ulfr snickered, laughing at the completely disgusted look on his friend's face.

"Shut your face, Ulfr!" Gimli hissed, punching the laughing amber-eyed Dwarf in the shoulder. "I'd rather burn off my beard and stab out my own eyes!" He grimaced in disgust-- the very thought of it made him want to vomit. Ulfr only laughed harder as he rubbed his sore shoulder.

Giving the amused Ulfr a 'glare of death', Gimli got up and walked carefully over to a locked wooden chest. It was sitting towards the center of the roof, well out of sight from anyone on the ground. 

Both he and Ulfr had decided that the roof was a perfect place to hide their valuables— after all, no one would ever think to look up for a Dwarf's stash, knowing how ground-oriented Dwarves are.

Ulfr joined him by the chest, his laughter now under control. Gimli no longer had the key for the lock (having lost it in the mine when a particularly ill-tempered orc had decided that he needed a lesson about not insulting his captors), so with a strong kick from his booted foot, he knocked a hole in the side of the chest. Once the hole was made, both he and Ulfr began to break and pry the thick wooden chest apart with their strong hands. In a matter of seconds the chest was completely destroyed, revealing a large leather-wrapped bundle inside.

Quickly unwrapping the bundle, Gimli revealed Ulfr's sword with its creeping vine pattern etched on the blade, both his and Ulfr's money pouches and his three beloved axes. Each axe had its own unique pattern, their clean crescent blades shining red in the light. 

Gimli paused as he reached for his axes; it was obviously a trick of the light but for a second he could have sworn they looked covered in blood, red blood. He had a sudden strong sense of deja vuÈ, giving a quick shake of his head he pushed the image out of his mind. 

Picking the three blades up he gave each a reverent kiss as an almost giddy feeling fluttered in his stomach. Now he felt whole again! Look out, orcs, Gimli son of Gloin is coming for you! he thought, as he put the double-bladed axe down before standing up and doing some swings and blocks with his twin axes, one in each hand. 

The axes felt like extensions of himself, each perfectly balanced. Their heavy weight gave him a sense of comfort, always reminding him of those who had used them before him: his Mother, his Grandfather, his Great-Grandmother, and all the warriors before them, and now they were his to wield. Ulfr too took a couple of practice swings with his sword, fighting some invisible opponent, and for few moments one might have thought the two soot-covered figures were dancing in the red glow of the sinking sun.

"I think I hear some orc throats begging to be cut!" Ulfr said, as they both finally came to a stop in a defensive position.

"Then let's not keep them waiting!" Gimli replied, standing in a rather artful looking defense pose called the 'dragon's shield'. 

Ulfr reached into the leather bundle and handed Gimli his thick weapons belt before picking up his own, buckling it around his waist and slipping his sword into its sheath at his side. Gimli did the same, buckling his belt tight about his hips before attaching Blood Screamer, his double-bladed battle axe, to the back of his belt, then his two single-bladed axes, Fire Reaper and Star Smasher to his side holsters at his hips. After putting their money purses into a pouch on their belts and buckling it closed, Ulfr noticed something in the distance. 

"Gimli, look!" he said, pointing to the west where a cloud of black smoke rose in the valley beyond.

"That's coming from Shiprock," Gimli said in a low voice as they both watched, knowing what that black cloud of smoke meant. The town in the valley was burning. Both their hearts dropped a little further at the sight.

"I'll bet my right ball that's where that Illzog and the rest of the orcs are," Ulfr said with a growl. "And I'll bet this Illzog is that Goblin chief Rowell's been bending over for. Remember what the orc bitch said: 'White-Cloak'— that could only be Rowell."

"It sounds like Rowell's pulled one of his disappearing acts again, too," Gimli said, taking out his two axes.

"Probably took the gold and ran, the two-faced snake," Ulfr spat, drawing his sword from its sheath. 

"With most of the orcs on a raiding party at Shiprock and probably most of the other ones dead in the mine, 'tis the perfect time for us to rescue Shala and the others. Come, let us make haste!" Gimli urged, taking notice of the fading light.

Trotting back to the roof's edge they both looked down, making sure the coast was clear, but they only saw the first goblin still lying on the ground, unmoving. A big grin split Gimli's face, and with both axes in hand he walked a little further along the roof's edge before stopping right above where the Goblin lay. Then he jumped off.

Gimli heard the satisfying snap of bones as his full weight crushed the goblin's ribcage under his feet on impact. He quickly hopped off the body, then Ulfr landed with a slight crunch and more of a squishing sound.

"You broke him before I could have a proper bounce! Hrumpf!" Ulfr joked with mock disappointment.

"We'll just have to find you a new one," Gimli suggested, a wicked gleam in his eye.

Gimli then looked at the goblin's face and felt a pang of disappointment; it had been dead before they had used it to land on. Its beak-like nose had been smashed into its face, the bones piercing its brain. Needless to say, the orc wench had a killer punch. Ulfr gave a grudging whistle, impressed, as he looked over Gimli's shoulder.

"Come on!" Ulfr said, giving Gimli's shoulder a shake before he started off carefully in the direction of the tavern. Gimli jogged behind him, axes at the ready. The two disappeared between a few gray buildings, leaving the old barn they used to call home and the dead (and now much more worse-for-wear) goblin behind.

~~~~

Gimli and Ulfr could now see the front of the tavern (one of the only two-story buildings in Black Hollow), but just as they were going to dart across the gravel road, they threw themselves back against the wall of the building they were hiding behind. 

Peeking around the corner they could see a thin goblin with a bow creeping quietly around the building. Its head was cocked at an angle and its sharply pointed ears were twitching, obviously listening to something as it made its way slowly to the back of the tavern. Gimli realized that it was probably hearing Hanar, Svior and Nidi, who were no doubt already there waiting for Ulfr and him.

Gimli motioned for Ulfr to be quiet before darting as silently as he could across the road to the front of the tavern, Ulfr following a few moments later. Then as noiselessly as possible, Gimli snuck after the goblin who still hadn't noticed him— or so he thought.

For in truth the goblin had heard them, but luck was with the two young Dwarves this time. The goblin was paying more attention to the sound of hushed talking and movement coming from behind the taveren, and it had assumed since it was obvious whoever it was coming up behind him was armed and trying to keep quiet, it was two orcs or fellow goblins come to check out the same sound he had heard. It was a mistake that would cost him.

Gimli was feeling quite proud of the fact that both he and Ulfr had managed to sneak up on the bow-carrying Goblin without it even noticing them. He was about three feet from the goblin's back when the creature carefully looked around the corner at the rear of the building before stepping back. Gimli and Ulfr were struck dumb when the goblin raised a hand, signaling for them to hold their position. Iit then held up three clawed fingers signaling that it saw three targets around the corner.

The goblin felt a tap on its shoulder, and it turned to snarl an insult at the Orc behind him.

"Wha-" Except it wasn't an orc or a fellow goblin. It was two, short, pitch-black creatures, with glittering eyes and gleaming white teeth. Then the world suddenly tilted, and the ground came rushing up to meet it. 

It had a momentary clear view of the two creatures' feet before something heavy fell on him, blocking his view. Its last thoughts were the realization that its body had fallen on its own severed head. 

Gimli looked down at the decapitated body at his feet with a raised eyebrow before glancing at Ulfr, who just gave a shrug. Gimli calmly bent down and wiped the blood from his left axe on the goblin's stained tunic. Both he and Ulfr made sure to step on the body as they made for the edge of the building before turning the corner. 

And walked right into a nightmare…

~~~

The smell hit them full force, and they almost stumbled back with its strength, gagging. The stench of rotting flesh made them light-headed, and a small part of Gimli wondered how they could not have noticed it before.

Hanar quickly turned their way, startled, a big double-sided battle axe clutched in both hands, before realizing it was them. They could see Svior sitting on the ground, trying desperately to hold on to and keep quiet a now completely hysterical Nidi, who was alternating between screaming and pulling at his hair.

Scattered all about the ground were the women and children…or what was left of them.

Bodies were everywhere, strewn about like garbage. The dying light of the setting sun painted everything blood red, and a distant part of Gimli's mind thought it strangely appropriate. 

The depths of Rowell's treachery and greed were now revealed in all its horrible glory. Their rage and sorrow knew no bounds. They were disgusted with what lay before them and at themselves, bitter at their own naivety, angry that they had clung to so false a hope. It had all been for naught; they had slaved and suffered in the depths of the mine for a false promise, given by a serpent-tongued traitor. Should they have expected anything less? Now everyone was gone, everyone was dead, Black Hollow was dead.

All the bodies showed signs of having been fed on, many with visible bite marks on them, some completely stripped of flesh. Severed limbs were everywhere. Some of the bodies were festering, having been dead for weeks, crawling with maggots like the carcasses on the road, but others looked fairly fresh only a day or two old at the most.

It was then that Gimli noticed that he was standing on something and with dread in his heart he forced himself to look down and moved his left foot. It revealed a small child's hand, bitten off at the wrist— a small Dwarf child's hand. 

Seeing the hand was too much for Ulfr; his sword dropped with a clatter as he fell to his knees and started to retch, so hard he was almost choking with the force of it. Gimli saw Svior turn to them with an accusatory look, but Nidi took no notice, still in the throes of grief. Hanar just looked at them with unreadable eyes, and to Gimli the Dwarf looked suddenly very old, brittle, even with the large axe clutched in his hand. Just a weak old Dwarf at the end of his years.

As for Gimli, his emotions were all fighting for dominance— rage, despair and hopelessness all burned inside of him. He walked slowly over to Svior and Nidi, and as he reached them he could now see the remains of Nidi's mother. From the horrible condition of her body, Gimli could tell that she went down fighting hard.

"Nothing grows around here… the coal--- there's so much of it. It's like a poison, killing anything that grows, leaving everything gray, desolate. Not much game. The supplies and food the coal wagons brought back weren't enough…not for so many. They couldn't eat too many of the workers, needed them to mine the coal. So they ate the hostages," Hanar said in a strange monotone, speaking more to himself than to the other four. Gimli just listened as he gazed at the nightmare scene in front of him, his axes still clutched tightly in both his hands, feeling completely useless. 

Looking closer he could now identify some of the other bodies. An arm with a coiled snake tattoo— Farin's wife. A decapitated head with a long thick braid of brown and silver streaked hair, tied off with a strip of red leather— Lady Hildr. The head and upper torso of a raven-haired young woman, her hair parted into two plaits. Shala, Myia's older sister, mother of three and a dear friend.

Gimli remembered how she would always cook extra when she made cinnamon tarts, knowing that he loved them, always asking how his Da was doing. Constantly clucking and worrying that he and Ulfr weren't eating enough, gently scolding Myia for not acting like a 'proper' lady, or mothering even the crankiest old Dwarf if given the chance. She was a kind soul and everyone adored her. 

She didn't deserve this.

Many a night one could find Shala, her little ones, her husband Leon, Myia, Gimli, Ulfr and their friends having dinner or just laughing and joking at the small table in their home. Talking about their dreams to get out of Black Hollow and start better lives somewhere else. Shala wanted to start up a bakery, or maybe an inn of her own in a town somewhere. 

I guess some things were never meant to be, Gimli thought sadly.

Slowly he carefully stepped over a few bodies before coming to kneel at Shala's side, her gray eyes staring dully at nothing.

"I'm sorry, Shala, I was too late…forgive me." he whispered softly, putting one of his axes down before reaching out to gently close her eyes. Standing up again, he looked around for her three children— the least he could do was put them beside her, he thought numbly. But after searching around the other bodies and still not finding them, he remembered that goblins prized the tender flesh of children, so there was probably nothing left of the three little ones. 

Defeated, he walked back to where Ulfr was still kneeling, his retching over with, his face in his broad hands. The smell of bile stung Gimli's nose as he stood silently next to the amber-eyed Dwarf, letting him know he was with him; it was the only comfort he could provide. Ulfr kept muttering to himself over and over again, "It was for nothing… nothing."

Nidi had finally stopped screaming and flailing in Svior's arms; now he was silent, staring into space as Svior whispered nonsense words of comfort in Khuzdul to him. Gimli thought there was a good chance that Nidi's mind had broken, as he watched the limp Dwarf stare glassy-eyed at nothing. 

'Just like Shala's eyes— dead,' a small voice whispered at the back of his mind. Hanar slowly walked over to stand by Ulfr's other side, and the old Dwarf kept rubbing at the scarred side of his face with one of his callused hands as if it ached, looking defeated. For long moments no one could bring themselves to say anything.

The light was almost gone now, the stars were already out, and hanging low in the sky was a red sickle moon. 

"We have to get out of here…get to Shiprock." Gimli almost jumped as Hanar spoke, at first not recognizing the unsteady voice.

"Can't--- they're already there," Ulfr said shakily as he slowly got up. "Me and Gimli saw the smoke, overheard some orcs talking about it. Rowell's gone, too."

"The rest of the orcs are checking out the mine," Gimli put in, his voice sounding strangely calm even to his own ears.

"We have to get out of here!" Svior hissed urgently from right behind them, and the three jumped at the Dwarf's sudden appearance. None of them had noticed when he'd gotten up, coaxed Nidi to his feet and walked over to them. Nidi looked small and broken beside him, allowing himself to be led around by the taller Dwarf. "I told you, it was a mistake to come back here!"

"Don't. I warn you, Svior," Gimli said quietly, holding up a broad hand to stop any further words, a dangerous gleam in his eye. Svior just shot him a murderous glare and continued.

"This place is unstable, and 'they'll' be coming back! We must leave, now!" Svior demanded. In the fading light, his black eyes looked like deep holes, making him appear disturbingly hollow.

"And where will we go?!" Ulfr snapped, a strange look between anger and fear on his face.

"Who cares where we go!? As long as it is not here!" Gimli shouted, startling the others with his outburst. He could feel a cold rage growing in his heart; all the fear, despair, frustration and loss only fed the flames and he clutched the axes in his hands so tightly they ached. "We have come this far, let us not give up now! We must tell others of what has happened here. Then we find that traitor and avenge the dead!" Gimli demanded, looking at the others with fire burning in his eyes.

"Yes...yes, we must leave," Hanar said, thinking furiously of where they could go, a trembling hand stroking his tangled beard. They couldn't go to Turquoise Hill, knowing that their fellow Dwarves of the mining camp would go to the aid of the town of Shiprock and in turn share its fate. The town of Pine Falls had been abandoned for the last twenty years, Harlond was too far and they'd have to take the main road, and Dwarves were greatly unwelcome in Lindon. Damned Elves! Damn the orcs! Damned everything! Where could they go!? he thought desperately. 

"What about Green Ridge?" suggested Svior, looking around nervously.

"The plague is there, remember?" Ulfr reminded him, not even looking up as he stared tiredly at the ground by his feet, his shoulders slumped. 

"Too far anyway, and we'd pass too close to Shiprock," Gimli said, shaking his head. He then clasped Ulfr's shoulder, giving the amber-eyed Dwarf a searching look. Ulfr looked up at Gimli and nodded, indicating that he was okay, and Gimli gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze that was as much for himself as it was for Ulfr. 

"We'll go north-east to Telgor," Hanar said, finally coming to a decision. He looked up at the four with commanding eyes, standing up straighter. Once again he was the Hanar they knew— the leader, strong and wise. "We'll have to go through the old limestone quarry to save time and to avoid the road. It's a good distance, but I see no other course. Ulfr, did you or Gimli bring any traveling supplies?"

"No, just what's on our belts," Ulfr said, shaking his head.

"I have my traveling pack, but not much in the way of food," Svior said.

"We'll make do with what we have. Come, let us go before they return! For I have no intention of staying a moment longer in this accursed place to look for supplies!" Hanar said before turning to look at Svior. "What about Nidi? Can he keep up?" There was a hard look in his eyes and an underlying meaning in his words. 

Svior visibly bristled at this, his teeth bared in a snarl, knowing exactly what Hanar meant. But before he could frame a retort, a soft voice spoke, causing them all to look in surprise at the smaller Dwarf at Svior's side.

"Yes, I can keep up," Nidi said quietly, looking up at the other four with a strange unreadable expression. The look in those honey-brown eyes made a shiver run up Gimli's spine. Corpse eyes, he thought again silently to himself, and a quick glance to the left showed that Svior too was watching Nidi with obvious worry.

Hanar seemed a bit taken aback, but he quickly recovered. "Good…good," he said, then reached for his belt and took out a large hunting knife. He handed it to Nidi, who accepted it with a small nod of thanks, but with an otherwise blank expression. "Now let us make haste!" the old Dwarf said, giving them all a once over before taking off at a run towards the north-east. The others followed right on his heels.

None looked back as they tried to get as far away from that gray desolate place as they could. Yet all five of them knew that no matter how far or fast they ran, they'd never outrun the ghosts of Black Hollow. They would no doubt haunt their nightmares forever. 

~~~

The thin sickle moon hung high in the dark sky full of stars. In the gray rocky land below, five dark figures ran as fast as they could with only the light of those stars to guide their way. 

They had been running non-stop at a good clip since fleeing Black Hollow, trying to put as much distance between them and the horrors of the dead town behind them. No one spoke; the only noise was the tread of their running feet, their heavy breathing, and their heartbeats pounding in their ears as they struggled to maintain their pace. They all knew they had to get to the quarry and the cover of the sparse forest that grew around it as soon as possible, for the rocky desolate land around the Hollow had little to no cover, leaving them vulnerably exposed. For once they were glad for the coal-dust that covered them, for in the dark they could hardly be seen, appearing as little more than shadows themselves (albeit noisy shadows).

Gimli ran beside Ulfr, both of them bringing up the rear with Svior and Nidi running in front of them. Surprisingly, Nidi was actually a little ahead of Svior, and Gimli noticed that unlike the rest of them who had put their weapons away to make running easier, Nidi still clutched Hanar's knife in his right hand. 

Leading the four was Hanar; the old Dwarf's breathing was becoming ragged and he was starting to stumble. Gimli could tell that Hanar would not be able to maintain their speed for much longer. 

They were now a good distance away from the Hollow; only the small brush and the occasional windswept tree dotted the landscape around them. The vegetation, though sparse, was becoming more common as they neared the quarry and the land beyond. But they still had a good way to go and they all knew it was only a matter of time before the orcs noticed their tracks.

Hanar knew he couldn't go much further but he was determined to go as far as he could, pushing himself to keep on. He cursed to himself as he stumbled over another rock— exhaustion, hunger, and much as he hated to admit it, old age were catching up with him. The others, too, were having to fight to maintain their punishing pace; sore muscles combined with mental and physical exhaustion dragged at all of them.

After seeing Hanar stumble again Gimli knew they would have to decrease their speed soon. He was just about to call to the old Dwarf when a warning bell went off in his head. 

With the skill of one who's handled axes since he could crawl, both his axes were out and at the ready in the blink of an eye as he came to a skidding halt, scanning the darkness for danger. Hanar too must have felt it, for he suddenly stopped, his breath coming in loud pants as he took out his large axe. Ulfr and the others crowded around them, pulling out their own weapons. There they waited, listening with baited breath as their eyes quartered the dark landscape. Dwarves have excellent night vision, but they still couldn't see nearly as well as a goblin could in the dark.They could all now hear movement in the distance, as several 'somethings' ran at full tilt in the dark after them.

"Goblins?" Svior asked in a hushed whisper, his sword in both hands. Nidi stood next to him with his knife at the ready, that same blank look on his face. 

"No, wargs!" Ulfr warned, pointing to their left, and the others whipped around to follow his arm.

In the darkness they could see two pairs of glowing red eyes in the distance, rushing over the desolate rocky landscape towards them. As if sensing they had been spotted, a blood curdling howl pierced the night air, making their hair rise on the backs of their necks.

"Shit! They'll bring the goblins right to us!!" Gimli cursed, stepping forward to confront the two large shadows racing towards them. Gimli hated wargs almost as much as orcs. Wargs looked like large twisted wolves, and like wolves they traveled in packs, but like noble and shy wolves they were not. As Gimli watched the two come closer, a small nagging thought kept tugging at the back of his mind. Wargs travel in packs…packs. I only see two…

Ulfr stepped up next to Gimli, yet far enough away to not have to worry about any of Gimli's swings hitting him by accident. His sword was in hand as he got into a fighting stance. The other three stood nearby, weapons at the ready, watching the two wargs get closer, their mottled gray fur and snapping jaws now visible by the starlight above.

"There's only two! We can take them, easy!" Ulfr said, confidence in his voice.

But when the wargs got within six yards they suddenly veered to the side, running back into the darkness.

"Ha! We scared them off!" Ulfr crowed, watching as the two ran away. Gimli heard a sigh of relief from one of the three behind him, but something wasn't right— he could feel it. His eyes widened as an old memory of something his father had once told him when he was younger struck him like a bolt of lighting.

"It's the warg you don't see, that will be the one that rips out your throat," Gloin said seriously to the copper-haired five-year-old, who watched with big eyes as Gloin made a clawed slashing motion across his neck to demonstrate. 

The two wargs were a distraction! came the sudden realization. 

Gimli whipped around as fast as he could to warn the others.

"Behind us!" he yelled, just as three large wargs, seemingly from nowhere, attacked them from behind. These were large wargs, the smallest being the size of pony. 

Everything turned to chaos then— growls, bellows and the swinging of weapons filled the night air as the five Dwarves fought for their lives. The two original wargs came back to join the fray, making it five against five.. 

One of the wargs let out a gargling, yelping sound as Svior managed to thrust his sword between its ribs, piecing its lung. Nidi darted in close, slashing its throat before jabbing his knife into its eye, killing it.

A warg's head went flying, the jaws still snapping, spraying hot blood everywhere as Hanar's axe chopped it from its still bucking body. 

A dark grey warg, the size of a small horse and obviously the alpha of the pack, lunged for Ulfr. The amber-eyed Dwarf was just barely quick enough to throw himself out of the way of its snapping jaws. Seeing its prey had escaped for the moment, it turned its sights to a different target. But unfortunately for Ulfr, to avoid one warg he had thrown himself into the path of another. 

With a murderous growl the new warg sprang at him, and Ulfr brought his short sword to bear, slashing it in the neck. It gave a yelp, but quickly recovered to lunge for him again. This time he slashed it under the jaw and followed up with a hard thrust deep into its shoulder, causing the warg's leg to buckle under it. Unfortunately the beast was too close for Ulf to get out of the way. Using its one good front limb the warg lunged low catching the Dwarf's leg and knocking him off his feet.

Ulfr let out a yell of pain as the warg's vice-like jaws clamped onto his leg. He stabbed and slashed desperately at the creature, trying to get it to let go, but the warg refused to die— it just bit harder into the flesh of his leg, causing him to cry again. The others were too busy dispatching the other wargs to help, but Hanar was able to quickly come to his aid. With two powerful swings of the old Dwarf's axe, the warg was decapitated. Hissing in pain Ulfr (with Hanar's help) then proceeded to try and pry the mouth open to release his badly bleeding leg. Hanar finally had to chop off the warg's lower jaw to free Ulfr's leg. 

Gimli had just dispatched one of the other snarling beasts, lopping its front legs out from under it and severing its spinal cord with a blow to its back. Hearing Ulfr cry out, he was about to go to the aid of his friend when he caught movement in the corner of his eye, alerting him just in time to sidestep the alpha warg's attack. 

With a speed that would have impressed even an Elf, Gimli used his momentum to pivot and bring both axes up to slash deep gashes into the warg's side as it passed. It gave a howl of rage and pain then came around for another attack, its teeth gnashing, ears back, piercing red eyes blazing with murderous intent.

As it lunged at him, Gimli swung his right axe into a hard block, knocking the beast's large head aside with the weight of the blow. He then followed through with the left axe, bringing it down for a killing blow to the neck.

But the warg's head swung around unexpectedly, recovering faster then Gimli had calculated. Instead of the axe splitting the warg's neck open, it landed with a sickening *thunk* in the right side of the warg's face, from cheek to eye. 

The warg gave a blood-curdling howl as blood spurted everywhere. But as fate would have it, the thick bones of its face didn't break under the force the Dwarf's powerful swing. Instead for a horrible few moments the axe was stuck, lodged in the thrashing creature's face.

Gimli held on furiously to his axe, unwilling to let go, his teeth bared in determination. He could smell a copper tang in the air as a hot shower of blood fell on him, and he strained to not let go. Using his still free right axe, he swung it back, sinking it into the warg's thick chest as hard as he could before ripping it back out for another swing. 

With what could only be described as a scream, the warg raised up onto its back legs, thrashing madly back and forth and nearly lifting Gimli right off of his feet. Then the axe dislodged with a wet scraping sound and the Warg bolted, leaping away to disappear back into the darkness, yowling in agony.

Gimli watched it go, its pained cries ringing in his ears, and a part of him took great pleasure in the sound. Inspecting his left axe for damage, he noticed a bloody mass of ball-like flesh stuck to its blade. On closer examination, he saw that it was the remains of the warg's right eye. Other than that and being covered in blood, the axe was in perfect shape.

With a disdainful curl of his lip Gimli flicked it off the blade, hearing it land with a wet squish a few feet away, before he turned and quickly made his way to Ulfr's side where the others were gathered.


	4. Red Moon

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 3b)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for extreme violence and disturbing imagery)

Warning: Major, major Gimli angst. If you got a weak stomach, then read with caution. 

Archive: you want it, you got it.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit from this. With the exception of some original characters, Gimli and all the other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: We find out what happened to Gimli during the year while Thorin's company were away on their Quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli? Then don't read this fic.

Notes: This is Book-version, not Movie-version. And thank you, to those lovely people that reviewed this piece of crap fic ~_^ And another BIG thank you to Miss Amidia, for beta-ing and pointing out some major probs. Thank you!

****

More Notes: Another huge thank you to the talented Miss Little My for re-beta reading this chapter, I love you!

~~~

Red Moon

~~~

"And the stars shined on in their peaceful ocean of black, as the screams ripped through the night below." (author unknown.)

~~~ 

"Ulfr, are ya all right?" Gimli asked, putting his axes back in their holsters at his hips as he came to kneel by Ulfr's side.

"No, you fool!" Ulfr snapped irritably, grabbing Gimli's hand and holding it in an iron-tight grip. He grimaced in pain as Hanar tried to bandage the wound as best he could with some strips of material from Ulfr's ripped trouser leg.

Gimli said nothing but squeezed the hand grasping his own, offering as much silent support as he could. Svior and Nidi stood nearby, keeping watch. Ulfr's leg didn't look good; Gimli could tell it was serious by Hanar's dark look as he worked. Gimli knew that they had to hurry; with their cover blown by the wargs, the goblins were probably on their way.

Ulfr gave another sharp hiss, his grip nearly crushing Gimli's hand as Hanar tied the final strip tightly around his leg. Finished, the old Dwarf sat back on his heels and looked gravely at the young Dwarf sitting, panting, on the ground. He let out a tired sigh; he was not looking forward to what he was about to say. Getting up slowly, Hanar turned to the four Dwarves now watching him expectantly.

Gimli knew whatever Hanar was going to say wasn't going to be good, but he steeled himself and listened.

"It's bad, lads, the muscles are torn. He can't walk on his own, and with the goblins coming he'll only slow us down," stated Hanar in his deep gravelly voice.

"We are not leaving him!" shouted Gimli. He shot to his feet, eyes blazing, only to be yanked down again by the hand still clutched in his own. 

Ulfr gave him a hard look. .

"He's right. You have to leave me behi-"

"Shut up, Ulfr!" snapped Gimli, interrupting him.

"You shut up!" Ulfr snapped back in irritation.

"No. You shut up!"

"Don't tell me to shut up!"

"I'll tell you to shut up when you're being stupid, you witless fool!"

"Who are you calling a fool, you idiot?!"

"BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!!" bellowed Hanar, glaring at the two Dwarves with a mix of anger and exasperation. Both Gimli and Ulfr wisely fell silent. Nidi and Svior watched them, wide-eyed with disbelief -- leave it to Gimli and Ulfr to squabble at a time like this. 

Gimli rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, the darkness and coal-soot covering up his blush of embarrassment. Ulfr, on the other hand, knew exactly what to say in a situation like this.

"He started it!" he said, pointing a finger at Gimli, trying to look innocent (and failing miserably). This earned him a 'glare of death' from the brown-eyed Dwarf in question. Hanar was now rubbing at his temples like he had a sudden headache, then after a few moments he let out a big sigh and let his hands drop to his sides. He looked at the others with hard yet compassionate eyes, seeing their young soot-covered faces, their eyes, each with their own unique color, watching him intently.

"We split up," he told them. Both Svior and Gimli opened their mouths to speak, but before they could say anything Hanar held up a hand, cutting them off. 

"Svior— you, Nidi and Gimli will continue on. I will stay with Ulfr; he can't walk on his own and I…I am old," he said bitterly, his pride balking at the admission. "I can no longer keep the pace of our flight. We will follow as best we can. Remember to make for Telgor! If we don't meet up with you there in three days time, then you'll know our fate. Now go!" he ordered. 

But no one moved, until Gimli's voice broke the strained silence that had fallen over them.

"I'll not be leaving Ulfr or you behind," Gimli said calmly, as if it were a simple statement of fact, before yanking Ulfr's arm over his shoulder and hauling the protesting Dwarf up, careful of his injured leg. Svior was looking at Nidi, who was staring at the old Dwarf with a strange look in his eyes, yet neither of them made to leave.

"I said, go!" shouted Hanar, pointing angrily in the direction of the quarry and the land beyond for emphasis.

"Get out of here, leave me!" demanded Ulfr, leaning heavily against Gimli's side. He glared right into Gimli's face, so close their noses were almost touching. But Gimli only glared right back, defiance and determination shining in his deep brown eyes, completely ignoring Hanar and the others.

"We've come this far, and I'll not be leaving now. So you'd better just accept that I'm not leaving-- and there be nothing you can say or do that's going to make that change! Besides, you're the closest thing I have to family apart from Da and Uncle Oin, and I don't abandon family, ever," he said fiercely. 

Ulfr looked back at him with wide eyes as Gimli's words sank in. He then gave a defeated sigh, knowing it would be of no use trying to change his friend's mind when it was made up (everyone knew Gimli had a stubborn streak a mile long). 

"You idiot!" Ulfr finally shouted, not knowing what else to say, his deep amber eyes shining with emotion. He gave Gimli's shoulder a light punch, trying to cover up how much he was touched by Gimli's words. Having been an orphan since he was young, it meant a great deal that someone loved him enough to consider him family and stay by his side in such dire circumstances. 

Hanar let his arm drop; as he watched the two, he knew it was useless. Gloin's son would stay. Hanar actually would have been surprised if Gimli had listened and continued on without them. Snorting in defeat, Hanar turned to the other two Dwarves; Gimli and Ulfr too looked over to the others to see what their choice would be. 

"Well? Are ya both going to be stupid like Gimli here, or be intelligent and go?" Hanar barked, causing Svior to jump a little and turn his attention away from Nidi to the old Dwarf.

The black-eyed Dwarf looked at the three with an apologetic yet stoic look on his face.

"Forgive me, but I will not stay with you…I have my priorities," he said in a quiet voice, stepping back from the three and pushing Nidi away from them as well. Nidi turned his blank gaze to look questioningly at Svior, but Svior was still looking at the others.

"If there is a chance… I-- we, we will take it." Svior said simply, no apology in his voice, just stating a fact. Their friendship was not enough for him to stay; his ultimate loyalty was not to them. The other three said nothing— they did not think him cowardly, understanding and accepting his choice. 

"There is nothing to forgive, now go!" Hanar barked, motioning for them to leave.

"Good luck to you both! Find that traitor and make him pay!" Gimli told them, holding up a clenched fist for emphasis. "Beat his face in!"

"Make it out of here and live to fight another day. Good luck to you both!" added Hanar. 

"Take good care of Nit now, and Svior?" Ulfr asked, his amber eyes twinkling.

"Aye?" 

"When you make it to Telgor, promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise you'll pry that axe handle out of your arse, and relax!" Ulfr laughed along with Gimli, but Hanar only rolled his eyes and Nidi just looked puzzled.

"You're insane, you know that?" Svior said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the annoyance in his voice. 

"After all this, I think we all are," Hanar said dryly. "Now go!" 

As if in answer, they heard an angry bellow in the distance, from the direction they had come. Svior gave a sharp nod, then turned and grabbed Nidi's hand.

"Nidi, we have to go," he told him quietly. Nidi looked up at Svior with an unreadable expression on his face, then turned to gaze at the others for several long moments, studying them each in turn. Closing his eyes, he let out a soft sigh, then opened them again. Only his eyes seemed different now, more aware, older, more mature. It was still Nidi, yet he had changed; his eyes were still disturbingly emotionless.

"We'll tell others of what happened here and we will find Rowell," he promised in a soft voice. He turned again to Svior, who was watching him with almost a look of wonder on his face. Nidi gave the thick hand in his own a squeeze.

"We must go, Svior," he said, barely above a whisper. Svior shook his head as if clearing it from a spell and nodded. He turned and gave the three other Dwarves one final look, raising his hand in farewell; the other three did the same. 

Then off the two went, side by side, their black forms melting into the darkness. 

Neither of them looked back at the ones they left behind.

~~~

The three made their way as swiftly as they could in the dark over rocky terrain. The stars above were still twinkling happily as the red moon floated lazily across the sky. Gimli and Hanar were on either side of Ulfr as he limped along one- legged, as best he could.

It had been an hour since they had split up with Svior and Nidi. Gimli and Hanar scanned the surrounding area for danger as Ulfr concentrated on moving. Every now and then they'd hear a howl or shout in the distance, each time getting closer. Gimli was actually surprised that the goblins hadn't overtaken them yet. Aside from the wargs' attack, they hadn't run into any other obstacles. In his free hand Gimli held one of his axes, just in case.

The vegetation was definitely picking up and they had to dodge the occasional bush or shrub. Trees had also started to appear (actual trees, not the small bent, black and wind-swept trees that lived around Black Hollow), getting progressively more numerous as they neared the quarry. If they kept their pace, Hanar told them, they'd reach it in about a half-hour.

The three talked freely, knowing it made little difference now if they talked out loud or whispered, considering that the orcs knew where they were headed. Ulfr was making full use of this to get some things off his chest.

"I swear, I didn't know it was raved!" Ulfr said, earnestly.

"How could you not have known?! It was foaming at the mouth! As soon as my Da opened the box, it attacked him!" Gimli said in disbelief, as he ducked beneath a low hanging branch of a tree. Hanar was flat-out laughing on Ulfr's other side as he listened. 

"Ha, ha, ha, *snort* Gloin almost done in by a raved rabbit! Ha, ha, imagine having to carve that on his tomb. Here lies Gloin, son of Groin, who fell in battle with the long-eared scourge! *snort*," he laughed, wiping the tears out of his eyes, the lines around his eyes deepening with his amusement. Ulfr started sniggering, and soon even Gimli couldn't contain his mirth after that. Perhaps they were going mad, but it felt really good to laugh after all they had been through. They knew that they were probably doomed, but what could they do about it? Better to laugh and accept it, than deny the inevitable.

They had now made it to the lightly wooded area surrounding the quarry. Hanar even pointed out a footprint that could only be Nidi's by the size of it, in the loose dirt near a gnarled oak tree.

"Gimli?"

"Aye?"

"Remember when Lady Frior beat the stuffing out of you in front of the Smith's shop? Then sat on your face until you passed out?" Ulfr asked, a guilty look on his face. Apparently his confessions were not yet done.

"Aye," Gimli answered slowly. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Ulfr, picking up his guilty tone.

"Well…I sort of told her that you…"

"Ayyyye…" Gimli urged, through clamped teeth. The memory was still fresh in his mind— the confusion of suddenly being attacked by the dark-haired Dwarrow-Dam for no reason, then being smothered as she held him down in a rather painful hold.

"Well, I was trying to nick a pair of her knickers- -on Loini's dare, remember? Well she caught me, and I sorta' panicked. I told her…her that…"

"What did you tell her!?"

"I told her that I was stealing them for you."

"WHAT!?"

"She was going to pound my head in! I panicked! I told her you had this weird knicker fetish. And that you liked to wear them or eat them-- or something like that. I can't really remember," Ulfr said, looking apologetic. 

"WHAT!?! That was a complete lie!!!"

"Aye, but it was the only thing I could come up with at the time!"

Gimli was grinding his teeth, trying to resist the sudden urge to strangle the limping Dwarf. It was taking everything in Hanar's power not to burst out laughing. 

"If it makes you feel any better, she beat me to a pulp anyway. You're not mad, are ya?" Ulfr asked, looking at the fuming brown-eyed figure next to him, and only getting a 'glare of death' in answer. 

"Hanar, come. We must hasten," Gimli suddenly urged, tightening his grip on Ulfr as he picked up their pace, a new determination flashing in his eyes. Hanar just raised a bushy eyebrow in question.

"What's going on, Gimli?" Ulfr asked in confusion.

"I have to make sure we live and make it to Telgor. So I can kill you myself!!!" Gimli snapped, glaring at the amber-eyed Dwarf. 

For several moments all was quiet, then Ulfr very theatrically stuck his bottom lip out in a pout and looked at Gimli with big beseeching eyes, trying to look deeply wounded- -and failing miserably at it. 

"I thought you loved me!? *sniff*" he said in a high-pitched falsetto, making his voice waver as if he was going to cry. Gimli rolled his eyes, not the least bit impressed with Ulfr's antics. 

Hanar just laughed; these two youngsters were nothing if not entertaining, the old Dwarf thought to himself.

~~~

Twenty minutes had passed and the three now found themselves making their way through the forest just before the quarry. It was slow going, the trees making it harder to walk abreast, and they jostled Ulfr's leg once or twice on the way. They kept looking about in suspicion, jumping at noises that turned out to be nothing. 

After jumping at the umpteenth shadow and only seeing a tree moving in the wind, Gimli decided he definitely disliked forests. The trees played tricks on them: too many shadows, too many things that could hide in them. He also knew that the goblins should have caught up with them by now and it set his nerves on edge, his instincts buzzing with danger. 

There was a collective sigh of relief as they finally broke through the tree line surrounding the quarry. All the vegetation stopped about a good kilometer from the quarry's edge, leaving only the limestone sheet rock until the edge dropped off.

The quarry itself was a steep cliff, dropping off into a vast darkness below, and stretching a long distance to either side of them. They couldn't see it, but they knew that the bottom of the quarry lay below in that darkness, many feet below. Past the quarry was a forest, concealing a well-traveled road, and beyond that, the small farming town of Telgor.

They knew that the goblins would probably not follow them any farther than the road, for it was frequently patrolled by Rangers. If they could just make it past the road, they might have a chance. But first they must get down to the quarry's floor.

"Go to the left-- there should be a large platform we can winch ourselves down with," Hanar said. The quarry had been mostly abandoned after all the good limestone had been mined out of it; now only occasionally did people use it. But the system of pulleys they had used to haul up the stones should still be there.

Gimli's instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong, that they needed to get out of here. 

They continued to look for the platform, but after long minutes of searching, they still couldn't find it. Hanar was at a loss as the three now stood where the platform should have been. But it wasn't there. The old Dwarf kept muttering under his breath about a torch, for some proper light, as he searched about tugging on his beard. 

Gimli didn't like this one bit, and he tightened his grip on the comforting weight of his axe as he scanned the tree line around them. Ulfr stood next to him, looking quietly over his shoulder at Hanar. Gimli could feel a minute trembling in Ulfr's body; even though he hadn't said anything except for the occasional hiss, Gimli could tell that his friend was in a great deal of pain, and probably suffering from blood loss. They had to get help, and soon.

Gimli continued to scan the darkness around them, jumping every now and then when a dark shadow would move, convinced it was a goblin before realizing it was just a branch or shrub moving in the wind.

"Curse those creatures! Must they destroy everything!?" Hanar yelled angrily from behind them, startling the two, as the old Dwarf looked at something near the edge. 

"What is it, Hanar?" Ulfr asked tiredly, still holding on to Gimli for support. 

Gimli was just going to walk himself and Ulfr over to the old Dwarf when he caught movement off to his left. He quickly whipped around, causing Ulfr to hiss in pain at the jarring of his leg, holding his axe at the ready. But once again, all he saw was the black silhouettes of the trees, their branches swaying in the wind. Taking a cue from Gimli, Ulfr remained quiet, scanning the darkness as well, but he also saw nothing. Gimli could have sworn he had seen something creeping along in the tree line. 

'Something moved… and it was no tree,' Gimli thought to himself, as he readjusted his grip on his axe. Ulfr's warm weight on his other shoulder was oddly comforting as it was heavy.

"Did you see something?" Ulfr asked in a hushed voice, his free hand resting on the handle of his sword at his hip.

"Yes…but now I see nothing, except the damned trees," Gimli whispered back, and they both continued to look suspiciously about for several long moments. They could hear Hanar behind them shuffling about, muttering under his breath.

But try as they might they could make out nothing, and reluctantly he and Ulfr turned their attention back to Hanar, who looked up at their approach. 

"The dammed goblins tore it down, look," he said, pointing out the large chipped and crumbling cracks in the rock that they hadn't noticed before. "Those accursed creatures somehow managed to rip out the platform's foundations. Probably threw it over the edge." Anger and disgust filled his voice as he glared into the dark abyss over the edge, his scarred hands clenched in fury. 

Then suddenly he stiffened, his eyes going wide as a terrible realization struck him. He backed away from the edge, forcing both Gimli and Ulfr to back up as well, and they both scrambled out of the way to avoid a collision with the old Dwarf.

Hanar quickly turned and looked around the clearing with greatly troubled eyes, as if searching for someone. But there were only the dark trees that seemed to watch them, the oblivious stars twinkling merrily above, and the two confused, anxious young Dwarves watching him. Hanar could feel his heartbeat speed up in his chest. The platform had been destroyed some time ago, probably a month ago judging by the dust and moss growing in the broken cracks in the stone. There is no sign of Svior and little Nidi, and no doubt those foul creatures are already slithering about the woods. Now we are trapped, I was wrong to pick this way. I have failed us, I failed us all, he thought to himself. Slowly he turned to the two Dwarves behind him; rich brown and amber eyes watched him, anxiously waiting.

"I'm sorry, lads. That was the only way down."

"But…how did Nidi and Svior get down?" Ulfr asked in a whisper, looking at Hanar's deathly still face. Gimli watched and waited, his own heartbeat speeding up, his senses crackling with warning. He knew the answer; he could read the dread in the old Dwarf's eyes. 

The unanswered question hung in the air, yet none spoke. They all knew the answer, but none could bring themselves to speak it. A cold chill rolled up their spines, as the three black soot-covered figures just stood there, staring at one another, dread in their eyes. 

There was no other way down, and their two companions were nowhere in sight.

A loud snickering laugh floated from somewhere in the trees behind them.

The three whirled around, weapons drawn, hearts racing. 

Yet they saw nothing, just the dark shapes of the trees, the wind making their branches sway and moan. With bated breath they continued to scan the tree line, each tightening their grip on their weapon, standing stock-still, searching… waiting. 

Ulfr stood straighter, ignoring the pain as he put weight on his injured leg, knowing he would have to stand on his own if he wished to fight and not weigh Gimli down. Unwinding his arm from around Gimli's neck, he carefully stepped away from him and stood on his own. A grimace of pain curled his lips as he stood with his sword at the ready. Hanar had moved up on Ulfr's other side, so now the three Dwarves stood side by side, Hanar's battle axe in both his callused and scarred hands as he glared out into the darkness. 

Now that he was no longer holding Ulfr up, Gimli took out his other axe and held them both at the ready, his heart feeling as if it was trying to pump right out of his chest. His deep brown eyes were narrowed as he scanned the darkness, looking for the danger his instincts were screaming was there. He kept looking, waiting. But still nothing, just trees, shadows and wind. Then, suddenly he saw something.

There, right next to a tree and fairly low to the ground, was a pair of green slitted eyes. 

As if sensing Gimli's gaze, the slitted eyes turned and looked directly at him. A sudden line of sharp pointed teeth appeared under the eyes; it was grinning at him. Just a set of bulbous green eyes and a grin, in the darkness. 

He heard Ulfr give a curse beside him, and that was when he noticed the other eyes that were now appearing in the darkness. To Gimli it suddenly seemed as if hundreds of them were shining out from the darkness of the trees, all with varying shades of milky yellows and sickly greens, floating in the darkness at varying heights, some small, some big. All of them glaring back at the three soot-covered Dwarves with an eager, hungry light.

"Looks like some meat escaped the fire after all!" cackled a hissing voice from the darkness. The quarry rang with wild shrieks and snickering.

With that, the forest seemed to seethe and ripple as dark creeping figures poured out of the trees like crawling insects, disturbed from their nest. With shrieks of glee they raced towards the three Dwarves like a spiny black tide, hunger and hate fueling their horrible frenzy.

As they watched the orcs swarm towards them, adrenalin flooded their systems and a calm came over them. A prideful smile suddenly split Hanar's face as he adjusted his grip on his battleaxe.

"I want you lads to know that I'm proud of ya. And if your fathers were here… they'd be proud of ya, too. Now let's make these bastards work for their 'meal'. Then we can join our loved ones at Mahal's side!" With that, Hanar took a deep breath and let out a roaring battle-cry, both Ulfr's and Gimli's voices joining his deep call. 

Each of the three poured their anger, pain, and despair into that cry, nearly drowning out the answering shrieks and bellows of the twisted creatures racing towards them. The quarry amplified and distorted their combined voices, and the sound echoed about like one strange single voice, calling out in the night. 

Then at some unspoken command, both Gimli and Hanar charged forward to meet the shrieking mass of orcs and goblins. Ulfr stayed behind, waiting for the goblins to come to him.

Racing forward, Gimli met the first goblin head on; with ease it was quickly dispatched, soon followed by one of its shrieking brethren. The sound of combat filled his ears; he knew the others were also engaging the orcs, for he could hear the ringing strikes of Ulfr's sword and Hanar's axe clashing against the rusted and poorly made blades of the creatures around him. 

An orc gave a gurgle as it fell, its head almost completely severed by one of his crescent blades.

Gimli let himself fall into a rhythm, his blood singing in his veins, his movements quick and graceful, belying the deadly unforgiving power behind them.

A goblin's arm went flying, still clutching a broken scimitar.

He flowed, his movements fluid. He threw himself into the rush of it. 

A large orc managed to block one of his axes, but was unable to block Gimli's almost instant counter, which neatly lopped off both of the orc's clawed hands.

He began to dance, the primal dance of death. A dance that had made his mother so feared, his grandfather revered and his great-grandmother remembered with dread.

A goblin gave a shrill shriek as Gimli blocked its sword and gave a powerful kick directly to its knee, causing the joint to bend backwards with a crack of breaking bones. The creature's pained cries cut off a moment later as an axe haft delivered a crushing blow to its temple.

Gimli's twin axes rang out, swinging in intricate and graceful patterns of slashes and blocks.

An orc's eyes bulged obscenely as an axe sliced through the side of its thick ribcage, the blade plowing through the thick muscle and bone with frightening ease.

All weariness had left Gimli; he was in his element. The occasional hot splash of blood hitting his body was more refreshing to him at that moment then the coolest spring water. The pained shrieks of the orcs and goblins were like sweet music to his ears. If he had not been so consumed by his 'dance' he would have noticed that the heavy ringing strikes of Hanar's axe were now silent. 

More of the Evil Folk fell, most with massive fatal injuries; others were dead before they even hit the ground.

The orcs and goblins were growing a bit more wary of this 'meat' now, giving him a little more space. Gimli could also tell that the orcs and goblins who now attacked were better fighters than the ones before. Some even managed to trade and block one or two of his blows before joining the rest of the bodies now littering the starlit clearing.

He was just dispatching another orc when he heard Ulfr's voice cry out somewhere to his left. He whipped around to look, and his heart gave a lurch at what he saw.

Ulfr was on his knees, grimacing in horrible pain; one of his hands was gone, the arm ending in a bloody stump, his sword nowhere in sight. Towering behind the Dwarf was a large orc who had a cruel grip on Ulfr's hair, pulling his head sharply back, a large rusty scimitar poised to cut the Dwarf's throat. Ulfr knew he was defeated, but he still glared his defiance and hate at the grinning orc above him, steeling himself for the bite of the orc's blade. Gimli recognized the large beast as the orc female they had seen from the barn's roof; she still wore the same rusted and filthy chain mail shirt from before.

"Ulfr!" Gimli shouted, and without a second thought, he took aim for the tall figure above his friend. No goblins or orcs were near enough to be in the way, giving Gimli a clear shot. Bringing back his right arm, he threw his axe with such force it made his arm ache. The axe flew true, spinning with deadly accuracy towards its unsuspecting target. 

Just as the orc was going to slice her victim's throat she paused, hearing a strange whistling sound. She jerked her head up to look, only to see Gimli's axe flying at her. Her small, pale yellow eyes narrowed and she let out an angry hiss, her lips drawing back from her sharp rotting black and yellow teeth. Then, she did something that would haunt Gimli for the rest of his life.

Seeing that there was no time for her to dodge out of the way, she yanked a surprised Ulfr completely off the ground and held the struggling and cursing young Dwarf in front of her like a shield. 

Gimli watched in horror, unable to do anything as his axe slammed with unforgiving force into his best friend's body. The force drove the air from Ulfr's lungs, throwing his head back, thick red blood flying out of his gasping mouth. The shocking splash of red on his otherwise soot-covered body was startling even in the low light of the stars. The strike of the heavy axe on her living shield caused the orc holding Ulfr to stumble a step back.

Gimli watched wide-eyed, frozen to the spot, as everything seemed to slow down around him, his entire focus on his friend's shocked face. Gimli's despair knew no bounds as Ulfr's amber eyes somehow found his own across the distance between them. Shock turned to confusion, then to realization. Then the corner of Ulfr's blood- covered mouth twitched as if he were trying to smile, as if he had just thought up something funny. Gimli could almost hear Ulfr's voice in his head, cracking some joke about irony. Those eyes started to lose focus and then the light began to slowly fade from the amber depths, until there was no light in them. Then he was gone, hanging limp in the orc's grasp. 

It was Gimli's axe, his throw; he had killed his best friend. He had murdered his best friend with his own hand.

With a snort of annoyance, the orc tossed the Dwarf's body away from her. Ulfr's body fell bonelessly to the ground near the edge of the quarry, discarded like a piece of garbage. What had seemed like an eternity was actually only a few seconds.

A goblin, taking advantage of Gimli's frozen distraction, slammed a kick into the Dwarf's unprotected side, knocking him off his feet, driving the air from his lungs and sending him tumbling several yards. A couple of the orcs and goblins roared their approval, shaking their scimitars and swords in delight. 

Gimli came to a skidding stop by a dark motionless body and he lay there stunned, his world spinning around him. A part of him was aware of several orcs running over to finish him off— he knew he should get up, but what was the point? His whole body hurt, Ulfr was dead, killed by his own hand, and he was just so tired. It felt like there was a gaping hole where his heart used to be. It was over, just let them finish it, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. But another part of him could hear his mother's voice bellowing 'Get up! Get up!' A memory from long years past suddenly came to him…

"Oouff!"

He fell back, crashing to the hard dirt, kicking up a big cloud of dust. His breath was completely knocked out of him. His head was swimming, the metallic taste of blood was in his mouth, his muscles aching from punishment. As he lay there, trying to get his breath back, he could hear the heavy tread of his opponent's footsteps coming his way.

"What are you doing? Get up!" demanded a deep feminine voice.

"I…*gasp*…I'm trying to…*cough* to get…my breath back," he wheezed, squinting up at his mother in the glare of the afternoon sun. 

Her dark copper hair, the same color as his own, was held back from her strong-featured face in a thick knot on the back of her head. She wore her beard braided with several small red beads that hung down to the middle of her chest (female Dwarves, like the males of their race, have beards, but unlike males who have full beards, usually with mustaches, Dwarrow-Dams only had hair on their chins, like a thick goatee, leaving their cheeks and upper lip bare). Her dark almond-shaped eyes were narrowed in disapproval; her face seemed sculpted in stone, showing no emotion. 

She was dressed like her son, who was now on his hands and knees still trying to get his breath back. She wore a beat-up pair of her husband's trousers and a scuffed pair of simple boots that had seen better days. She was bare from the waist up, except for a thick strip of coarse cloth tied tight around her chest and over her breasts. Her shoulders were broad, her long arms thick with corded muscles and as strong as any male's. Her waist was smaller then a male's and her hips were larger as well. Both of her broad hands were balled into fists; neither she nor Gimli held weapons since they were sparring in hand-to-hand combat.

"Get up, now!" she ordered, stomping over to him.

"Please… a moment. Just giv-ooof!" He had his almost-recovered breath knocked out of him again, as his mother gave him a swift kick in the ribs, knocking him back a few feet.

"Get up, boy! Do you think an orc is going to patiently wait for you to get your breath back?! Nay! In this world you must be on your feet to fight! With or without breath!" she bellowed angrily, storming over to kick him again.

But this time he had learned his lesson. When she got close enough, he swiftly rolled to a crouch and grabbed hold of her ankle, yanking her off her feet. With a surprised grunt she fell to the ground before immediately rolling back to her feet and into a low fighting stance. Gimli was also in a fighting stance, still struggling to get his breath back, but his full attention was now on his opponent.

"Now THAT is what I want to see!" she barked. Gimli could tell by the twinkle in her eyes that she was pleased. "Remember! 'Tis the quick and the dead! No breath? Too bad! In pain? Good! Take that pain, use it! Pain lets you know that you still live!" And with that she threw a punch at his head; he ducked it and countered with a left jab to the ribs, which she blocked. 

Gloin and Daira sat nearby, watching from under a tree, occasionally giving a cheer to the opponents. Gimli's older brother was dressed the same as Gimli, in only a pair of trousers that had seen better days, with equally worn belt and boots. Gloin was the only family member of the four wearing a shirt (a faded and ripped shirt, but a shirt nonetheless) as he polished a group of newly-finished silver bracelets he had made to sell in the next town they stopped in. Daira was nursing his own set of bruises, having had his daily sparring lessons from their mother earlier. Gloin never sparred with his wife; Nei, being a female, was the more dominant of the pair. Besides Nei would only say with a roguish grin and a twinkle in her eye that Gloin did plenty of 'sparring' at other times, to which Gloin would wiggle an eyebrow or give her a peck on the cheek. Her children would only wrinkle their noses or roll their eyes, making both Nei and Gloin laugh. 

They continued to trade blows at a furious pace, and Gimli was hard pressed to defend against her attacks, for she had stopped pulling her punches and kicks after he had turned twenty and gave no slack. It was the same, if not worse, when they sparred with weapons. They finally came to another pause, both still on guard.

"Don't ever stay down unless you be dead or limbless! After I'm dead and in the Halls with our ancestors, if I find you there, newly arrived, because you would not get up in a fight! I will beat you until Mahal will be forced to make you a new arse before the final battle! Understand?!" she barked.

"Yes, Mother," Gimli groaned, having grown up hearing similar threats.

"Good! Now defend yourself! I was going easy on you before!! Hraaaghh!!!"

Mother…

His eyes snapped open. He couldn't stay down. His mother wouldn't allow it; his pride wouldn't allow it. He had to kill as many of 'them' as he could-- he had to kill that orc bitch for Ulfr!

He became aware of an orc standing over him, a look of pure malicious glee on its ugly face, preparing to bring its scimitar down to finish him off. Gimli rolled quickly out of the way just as the orc's scimitar stabbed down where his chest had been just moments before. Getting to his feet, he quickly lopped the surprised creature's head off before it could raise its weapon again. Then he turned and threw his remaining axe at a lanky goblin running up with its sword raised. It gave a howl as the axe sunk into its chest, knocking it back. 

Then with a deft move Gimli reached behind him and took out the double-bladed battle- axe from his belt. He gripped the haft of the heavy axe with both hands, feeling. The familiar thrill that always ran up his spine whenever he held the ancient weapon. The orcs and goblins were still advancing, but after seeing this particular 'meat' in action, they were a bit more cautious.

Gimli took a step back to get in a better stance, and stepped on the body behind him. It was face down, and at first he assumed it was a dead goblin. But a closer look showed it to be the bloody and mutilated body of a Dwarf, a broken battle-axe still clutched in a broad hand. It was Hanar's battle-axe.

Hanar was gone. 

Now he knew he was truly and totally alone. It was just him and the advancing group of orcs and goblins, with their hungry and eager eyes.

His heart beat a pounding tempo within his chest as he watched them get closer. But it did not beat in fear; no, it beat with his hate, his vengeance. His deep brown eyes blazed with a consuming fire, his white teeth bared in a fearsome snarl; blood trickled thickly and unnoticed from the side of his mouth. He could feel a hot burning ball of all his combined hate, sadness, fear, despair, anger and hopelessness gather and rise within him. 

Rowell's betrayal, all the beatings and insults they had suffered at the hands of the goblins, the others still down in the burning mine. Shala, all the women and little ones, the terror they must have had to endure. Nidi, Svior, Hanar and Ulfr, to have come so far only to fail. Images of his lost family forever seared into his mind flashed before him. The terrified look in Nin's eyes before the horse slammed into him and his twin fell under the pounding hooves. Mano's small fevered face as the toddler slipped away in his crying mother's arms. The lost and tired look in Minal's dark sunken eyes as she tottered off to pick the last flowers she would ever see. Daira's broken and torn body, his limbs scattered about the bloody forest floor. His mother's horribly pale and pained face, as she fought against the plague eating away at her body. The hopeless sorrow he felt as he watched, unable to help her as they huddled together in that cold rain-soaked alley, listening to his father's sobs of grief as he clutched her limp body.

Old pain and new merged into one. His vision went red, everything became quiet, and an electric charge seemed to strum through him. Then that ball of emotions, old and new… burst.

"I'LL KILL YOU ALL!!!" he screamed his rage as he charged forward.

An armed Dwarf in a full berserker rage is truly something to dread. He fought them like a thing possessed; like a horrible demon he tore into the orcs and goblins, his axe screaming like a wraith, warning of death. Everything was a blur, black blood flew, the howls of agony filled his ears like a chorus. Nothing seemed to hurt him. He showed no mercy, for his white-hot rage would stand for nothing less. His axe screamed and demanded more blood! More sacrifice! More death! Limbs and heads went flying, intestines spilled from opened bellies, ribs and bones broke like wet twigs under Blood Screamer's thick crescent blades.

Gimli fought on, not even aware of the injuries he was taking, though they were nothing compared to the massive injuries he was dishing out to the twisted and shrieking creatures around him. He had a goal, and it was to reach the large orc female who watched with a smirk on her ugly face, simply waiting for him to get to her. She had heard that axe's wail before, on a crowded battlefield many, many years ago, and was thrilled at the thought of taking the weapon for her own. 

Gimli had just eviscerated another howling orc when the remaining handful of orcs and goblins backed away, unwilling to test their mortality against the dark, snarling, fire-eyed demon now in their midst. Some of the more cowardly ones quickly scuttled back to the darkness of the tree line. 

Now nothing remained between him and the orc bitch, who now stood with her scimitar at the ready, a malicious smile on her face.

She couldn't wait, for surely this Dwarf must be one of the offspring of the feared wielder of Soul Ripper (what the goblins and orcs called Blood Screamer, during the Great War of Dwarves and Orcs). If she took that feared weapon as her own, then not even Illzog would challenge her! She would be leader! She would take the weapon, then feast on the flesh of that long feared warrior's offspring, and take his power for her own! 

"Comez to me, little dirt-rat! I lookz forwardz to feasting on your entrailz!!!" she bellowed with glee. With eyes blazing he charged forward to oblige her, and they met with an echoing clash of weapons.

They traded rapid and heavy blows, straining against each other's strength. While having no grace, the orc was skilled and monstrously strong, even for an orc. She was not like the other orcs or goblins that had been left to guard the town; she was a warrior and survivor of the Great War of Dwarves and Orcs, second only to the absent Illzog.

But even she was surprised at the young Dwarf's speed and ferocity. 

Gimli swung his axe aiming for her torso, but she managed to sidestep it. He leapt back to barely avoid a downward hack by her scimitar, then deftly danced out of the way of her counterthrust. He tried to catch her in the side but she blocked. He countered with a quick spin, slashing low, trying to catch her legs. 

She tried to jump out of the way of the axe's blades but it caught her left ankle, cutting it clean off. She gave a roar of pain and stumbled back, swinging her sword out in several wild slashes, mainly in the hope of keeping him at bay. Unfortunately one managed to slash the left side of his face before he could block in time.

"Aargh!" he yelled in searing pain, stumbling back, clutching at his bleeding face. He had been blinded in one eye. The hot flow of blood was alarming; he could feel it cascade down the side of his face, the coppery metallic taste as it seeped into the corner of his mouth, the feeling of it spreading into his beard, staining his face red. There was a jagged rip from his eye to his hairline. What irony! a small voice laughed in the back of his mind, that he should get a wound in the exact place as his mother's scar. Just then something warned him to duck.

He barely avoided the orc's rusty scimitar just in time to save himself from being decapitated. The orc gave an enraged growl at his escape. She reversed her swing and lunged at him again; he brought his axe to bear and blocked her powerful strike with a grunt.

They broke apart and clashed again, the orc limping around on the bloodied stump of her left leg, her rage dulling the pain for the moment, cursing and screaming obscenities the entire time. Gimli tried to work with his now-limited vision, ignoring the pain, not knowing if his left eye was destroyed or not. 

The female's rage was making her sloppy; her attacks were becoming more erratic and desperate. Instead of taking Blood Screamer as her own, she was becoming another one of its victims, and she did not like it one bit.

They continued to trade blows, both trying break through the other's defenses. Gimli had just avoided another wild downward swing when he saw an opening, for the orc had made the grave mistake of over-extending herself with her last blow. With a frighteningly fast move of his axe, he severed her arm before she could recover from her blunder.

She gave a horrible shriek as it flew off, still clutching her sword, the stump spraying black blood. She fell to her knees in front of him, clutching the stump in pain. For several moments all was quiet. Noticing the calm, she looked up to see Gimli standing in front of her, axe at the ready as he watched her, drinking in the sight of her defeat. Her yellow eyes narrowed in hate; realizing that she was defeated, she gave an enraged hiss then spit right in Gimli's face. One last insult.

With a look of disgust and rage Gimli swung his axe around and brought it down with all his strength. With frightening ease the axe cut through her shoulder, her chain mail shirt offering no protection against the screaming blade of the axe and the pure power of the Dwarf wielding it. The axe sliced through her thick torso, plowing through bone, muscles and organs alike until it was finally free, her body severed in two. 

The fountaining of her black blood almost drenched him as the two parts of her body fell twitching to the ground. Seeing that she was now finally dead, Gimli quickly turned around, his axe dripping with gore, ready for the next orc or goblin. 

But there was none, they were all gone, having run off after the female orc lost her arm (there was no loyalty among these evil folk).

He was alone with the dead bodies that littered the clearing, with only the moon and stars as witnesses to what had taken place. For long moments he didn't move, just stood there, panting from his exertions. As the adrenalin and battle frenzy drained away, leaving him feeling light-headed as minute tremors of exhaustion began to rack his body, he started to become aware of other injuries that just now decided to let themselves be known. 

The side that had been kicked was painful, and he was finding it hard to breathe— he probably had a couple of broken ribs. There were deep bleeding cuts running all along his back and arms, and of course the searing pain on the left side of his face that throbbed with every beat of his heart. But his physical wounds were nothing like the dark well inside him. The anger and hate were gone, leaving him feeling horribly hollow.

Mechanically, he bent down to wipe Blood Screamer clean of blood and gore on his trouser leg before replacing it in its holster on the back of his belt. Then he walked, slowly and numbly, over to the body of a lanky goblin, Gimli's axe still sticking out of its chest. He put his foot on the body and grabbed hold of the axe; with a yank he ripped it out of the corpse. Cleaning off the gore, he put it back in the holster at his side before slowly walking back to the quarry's edge where Ulfr's crumpled form lay.

He fell to his knees by the body. It took him several long moments to work up the courage to touch his friend. Carefully he turned Ulfr's body over and onto his back. Seeing the extent of the damage his axe had caused, another wave of guilt washed over him. With shaking hands, Gimli began to pry the deeply imbedded axe from his friend's chest as gently as he could, whispering nonsense words of comfort that fell on deaf ears. 

Finally the axe was free and Gimli looked at it like one would look at a poisonous creature. Thick red blood dripped from its crescent blade, and he suddenly remembered the sense of deja vu from earlier, on the barn's roof. It had been a sign. He let the axe fall from his shaking fingers— it clattered heavily to the ground, but at the moment Gimli did not care. He gathered Ulfr's still warm body to himself and slowly began to rock, not even aware he was doing so.

"Please, forgive me…I did not mean… I got her for you, Ulfr. I killed that bitch. The other…ones ran off. Hanar's dead…but you knew that. Old bastard… I never got the chance to ask him how he escaped from the troll. 

"It's funny, I…I don't know what to do. I didn't think I'd live. Still can't get down, and I can't go back.

"I… I don't know what to do!" he said with a laugh that sounded more like a sob. Ulfr said nothing; his dull amber eyes stared unfocused at the stars above them.

"You…if…if only you hadn't let that damned warg get your leg. You could have easily defeated her, and you…you'd be here with me now. And I wouldn't be here alone, talking to your corpse!" he yelled, giving Ulfr's body a shake, a ring of hysteria in his voice.

"Why…why do I lose everyone?" he asked aloud in a small broken whisper, his pleading, brown eye wide, staring at nothing as he continued to rock. There were no tears; he didn't have any more to give. The fire was gone from their glassy depths; all that remained was a young Dwarf, hurt, frightened, and horribly alone.

For over an hour he stayed like that, just rocking until the movement slowly ceased and he finally put his friend's body back down and reverently closed his staring eyes. He neatly arranged Ulfr's limbs as best he could before he got up and dragged Hanar's heavy body next to Ulfr's. He numbly went about his task, having to hunt around for Hanar's right leg and forearm, as well as Ulfr's missing hand. But he eventually found them and arranged their bodies properly, until the two lay side by side, their arms holding their weapons over their chests.

A few feet away, Gimli stood quietly near the quarry's edge, the dark forest at his back, gazing out over the dark abyss and the stars that stretched into infinity above. His axe, stained with his friend's red blood and now held in an equally bloodied hand, hung limply at his side. He listened intently to the wind and the creak and moan of the trees, the sounds bounced and amplified by the stone walls of the quarry. 

He stood there lost in that sea of stars, the red sickle mood still making its lazy journey across the night sky. When he was younger, and the hour was late and their campfire was only smoldering embers, his mother would sometimes say, "Remember, when even the hottest fires burn out and the night is dark-- look up! For the fire in the stars still burns. The stars burn on. The stars burn always." 

Mother…I'm lost. What do I do now? The stars don't have answers, he thought sorrowfully to himself.

*drip*

As he stood there, staring up, he became slowly aware of a sound behind him. 

*drip, scrape*

He froze, listening more closely to the sounds.

*wheeze, scrape, drip, drip*

A heavy something, quietly making its way towards him, the steady sound of dripping liquid hitting the clearing's limestone floor. Deep labored breathing that gurgled wetly, the kind of thick gurgle that one only gets if there's blood in the lungs. 

*drip, drip, scrape*

Then came a deep menacing growl that raised all the hairs on the back of his neck. 

Whipping around, he turned just in time to see a flash of dark gray fur and a single burning red eye, as a gaping bloody mouth full of gleaming razor teeth came rushing at him. He felt a hot blast of rancid air on his face and neck and tried to raise his axe for a block, but it was too close, too fast. 

He hadn't even lifted his axe halfway up before the thing slammed into him. His air was cut off as an incredible pressure suddenly clamped around his throat. 

The alpha warg, came the realization. Should have finished it off when I had the chance.

He felt his booted feet lose contact with the ground as the warg's heavy body plowed into him and suddenly he was staring up at the stars spinning above. He was falling.

He realized the force of the warg's attack had thrown them both over the edge of the quarry. His perceptions narrowed until there was only the sound of wind rushing past his ears as he fell, the growls of the warg and the strange sensation of those growls vibrating through his neck. The rancid smell of the Warg's hot breath stung his nose, his axe still clutched tightly in his broad hand, now useless. His lungs strained for air, mouth open in a silent scream, his one good eye staring up at the last thing he knew he would ever see.

Stars.

Not many knew it, but Gimli loved stars; he had even been named partially after them. They alone seemed to have remained a constant in his life, the one guaranteed beautiful thing he could always count on. 

The stars burned bright, the stars burned always…

The pressure around his neck suddenly increased, and he heard a cracking, followed by a sudden snapping sound.

A quietness took hold of him then, as he calmly watched the red moon float serenely in a swirling sea of stars. The sensation of the warg's growls reverberating through his neck faded, the wind rushing past his ears was suddenly silent. The rancid smell of the warg's foul breath vanished, his lungs no longer burned for air, and the pain from his numerous injuries seemed to slowly float away.

I'm dying," he thought calmly.

It was over— no more fighting, no more hunger, no more pain...

I'm sorry, Da. I did want to see Erebor. I'm glad uncle Oin is there to keep you company…wait for me, Ulfr…I'm coming…

Everything continued to fade until there was nothing but the stars above. 

Just the stars…until they too faded away and he was swallowed by the darkness.

"Remember. When even the hottest fire has burned out and the night is dark--look up! For the fire in the stars still burns. The stars burn on. The stars burn always. 

"Remember that, Gimli. My child of fire and stars…"

~~~~~~

Yes, I am evil.


	5. Of Crows and Ghosts

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 4)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (disturbing imagery)

Warnings: Angst, and deals with some racial bigotry

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few original characters, Gimli, Gandalf, and other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli while he and Thorin's company where away on their quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli? Then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is a Book-version, Not movie-version.

More notes:

/ means someone is speaking 'Crow'.

/" "/ means someone is speaking in 'Sindarin'.

(and now even more notes): Now beta-ed! Big, humongous "Thank you!" to the lovely, Little My! For willingly torture herself beta-reading this chapter (it was such a mess before). You're a Doll, Little My !

And a big thank you to all of you who have reviewed and made comments! Some of you sent me some fabulous feedback (Morn Gil, and others), but I couldn't send back a reply because your address would not work, sorry. But thank you for the feedback!

When I posted this fic I honestly thought no one would be interested in it (except for some of my fellow AxeBow members). But what a pleasant surprise! Looks like there are other Gimli/Dwarf fans out there after all . Thank you!

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"Since they were to come in the days of the power of Melkor, Aule made the Dwarves strong to endure. Therefore they are stone-hard, stubborn, fast in friendship and in enmity, and they suffer toil and hunger and hurt of body more hardily then all other speaking peoples," (pg. 39, Ch. 2 Of Aule and Yavanna, Silmarillion.)

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Caw! Screek! Caw! Caw!

A young crow squawked angrily while flapping her wings in agitation, she still had the matte black feathers of a juvenile rather then the shiny black feathers of adulthood. Her bright beetle-black eyes glared as a large group of older crows swarmed over the carcass, shoving her and the other younger birds out of the way.

Their sharp beaks tore through the Dwarf's thick hide to the flesh beneath, jerking their heads to rip and swallow hunks of meat, their beaks shiny and red with blood. Others worked together; ripping and pecking digging frantically at the Dwarf's muscular abdomen working their way through the dense muscle and sinew to the body cavity within that contained the tender and nutritious organs they sought.

A particularly old crow perched on the body's head, his gray-black wings spread out veiling the dead Dwarf's face, as if shielding it from the sun or the prying eyes of his fellow crows. But no, the old bird merely did so to keep the other crows back so he could pluck and eat the soft eye-balls from their sockets at his leisure. As for the young crow, when ever she or one of the other juveniles tried to get a share of the meat they where chased off.

/_Not fair! Not fair! Me find first! Me eat first_/ The young crow squawked, giving her wings another agitated flap as she sulked, completely ignored by the other birds.

While she and others watched the swarm of older birds feed on the two Dwarves bodies, the younger crows like herself hopped around nearby waiting for their turn, hoping for some scraps. The clear sky above and the fresh morning air did nothing to lighten her dark mood; or fill her empty belly.

Some of her fellows idly picked at the orc and goblin carcasses that lay scattered about, but none where really interested in eating the "dark-meat" for it tasted foul and spoiled even to their carrion eating pallets. They would eat it if there was nothing else, but not when there was 'red' meat available- fresh red meat.

From her perch atop an orc's decapitated head, the young crow watched as a squabble broke out when one of the bolder young birds managed to steal a large piece of meat before being driven off by the older birds. He was immediately mobbed by his fellows when he made it clear of the older ones.

With a bird equivalent of a huff the young crow flapped her wings and took to the air, completely disgusted by the whole situation. She cursed her foul luck and the unfairness of it all while circling the body littered clearing. Food was scarce in this gray rocky land and 'red' meat was even harder to find. Most of the left over 'red' meat back at the gray town was too spoiled to eat or infested with the white worms. The ones that where still fairly fresh were being picked clean by the older crows (who weren't sharing), so she had left to look for more food else where.

And what luck! Miles away, in a gray clearing between some thick woods and the steep edge of a deep quarry, she spotted the remains of a recent battle and two dead Dwarves! She and a few other crows quickly descended to take part in the unexpected feast. She had only just plucked out a rather tasty looking amber colored eyeball (a delicacy, to any self-assured crow) when she was suddenly chased off by another gang older crows, the eyeball snatched right out of her mouth.

_Not fair! She had been the one to find the two Dwarf bodies-she should be the one eating! Not those lazy old ones_!She thought bitterly to herself.

She continued to circle the clearing, pouting as she rode the morning breeze in ever widening circles. She was on her sixth loop, still grumbling to herself, when her sharp eyes spotted something below, down in the quarry. With nothing better to do and her curiosity sparked, she decide to check it out.

As she descended into the quarry she could now see two bodies below, a large warg and …a Dwarf! _What luck!_

On the gray stone floor of the quarry below lay the two bodies, about seven feet from one another. The large warg was sprawled on its right side, one red eye still staring balefully into space, it's muzzle drawn back from it's bloody teeth and gums, still frozen in a snarl. Its thick black tongue hung partially out of its mouth, and one of its front legs was at an odd angle, bits of the shattered bone sticking up out of the fur covered hide. Grey-matter and thick congealed blood had formed a large pool from where it had oozed from the warg's partially collapsed skull onto the gray limestone ground under it.

A few feet away, the body of the Dwarf lay crumpled on its left side in an almost fetal position. Like the two bodies in the clearing above, the crow could see that this one too was bare from the waist up, it's skin stained black from coal soot and blood. As the crow descended closer something flashed, grabbing her attention, looking she saw something shining dully on the ground next to the Dwarf's body. About a foot or so away was a piece of broken and twisted metal.

Landing between the two bodies, she quickly hopped over to take a closer look at the piece of metal- crows love shiny things, on closer inspection she saw it was a broken collar like the ones still around the necks of the two carcasses above. Losing interest in the broken circlet of metal (crows are not known for having very long attention spans), she made her way over to the body of the Dwarf, completely ignoring the warg's body even as she uncaringly waddled through the pool of gore leaving her prints behind. Hopping up to perch on the dead Dwarf's head, the crow paused for a moment to look down into the face of her next meal.

Like most crows, she didn't particularly care for Dwarves (live ones that is). A crow had to be careful what one said around Durin's folk, especially if said Dwarves had any stones nearby that they could throw. For unlike Men and some Elves who would hear their name calling and insults as only squawks and chirps, Dwarves could understand it (1). If that wasn't all, Durin's Folk were also friends with the snobbish and arrogant Ravens. And if there is one thing above all others that a crow dislikes, its Ravens!

Like the rest of it's body the dead Dwarf's face was dirty, incrusted with dried blood and other foreign matter. One eye had swollen shut, a jagged seeping wound ran through the eye and up into it's hair line, causing most of the left side of the Dwarf's face to be horribly swollen. The Dwarf's long messy and filthy hair was loosely tied back in a greasy rope that lay on the ground behind it like a dead snake. There were angry wounds all along its arms and back, as well as other various injures. A blood incrusted axe was still clutched in one of its hands, the crow could also see two more axes attached to a thick belt around the body's hips. The only clothes it wore were a pair of ripped-up trousers that were black from coal soot and blood, with a pair of beaten and scuffed-up boots.

_Stupid dog and stupid dirt-digger! Must have fallen over edge in fight. Ground-walkers, they all dumb!_ _Oh well, they all just meat now_. The crow thought to herself, but then most birds thought ground-walkers (all 'speaking creatures that could not fly) quite lacking in proper wits.

A loud screech from above broke the young crow's musings, she realized it was only a matter of time before some of her fellow crows noticed her discovery. She would have to hurry if she wished to eat the best parts herself before the others mobbed her again.

That decided, she was just bending over to jab her beak between the thickly lashed lids, to pluck out the corpse's right eye- when that one brown eye suddenly snapped open. The crow gave a squawk of surprise and fright, quickly flapping away in her sudden panic.

/Not dead! Not dead/

The eye just continued to stare unblinking and unfocused at nothing. Then slowly the widely dilated pupil began to shrink coming back into focus as the mind behind it became aware, before finally closing again. Then with a low moan the 'dead' Dwarf began to move.

From her perch, some twelve feet away on a pile of stacked stones, the young crow watched as her meal so rudely decided to come alive and move about!

The 'corpse' inhaled deeply as if it had been holding its breath for a long time before a series of lung wracking coughs shook its body. When the coughing subsided it lay still just breathing deeply. Then that brown eye opened again and slowly the Dwarf lifted its head. It looked about with confusion on its face, its one eye blinking owlishly before catching site of the dead warg.

The sight of the warg seemed to jog the Dwarf's memory for confusion gave way a moment later to realization, then crushing sorrow. It all flashed across the Dwarf's face before it closed its eye again and laid its head back down, a whimper escaping its now tightly clenched teeth. There it stayed, unmoving for long moments fighting some kind of internal battle with its self.

The crow continued to watch from her perch still grumbling to herself, hoping the Dwarf would decide to go back to being dead soon. But she was sadly doomed to disappointment.

For with another pained groan, the Dwarf began to uncurl from its crumpled position and rolled slowly on to its stomach. Collecting itself it then began to try and lever itself up, but with an agonized cry it found that the arm still holding its axe was unresponsive, most likely broken in the fall. Finally with several hisses and grunts of pain it managed to get into a slouched sitting position, holding its limp arm. The filthy rope of its hair hung down to the middle of its bare back, some hair that had escaped the braid hung loose on either side of its face, curtaining it from view. Its attention then turned to its broken arm, which seemed to refuse to relinquish its white knuckled grip on the axe. Nothing seemed to work, forcing the Dwarf to begin to try and pry its own fingers from around the weapon

By this time the quite miffed crow, whose stomach looked as if it would continue to be empty this day, decided to voice her feelings. /You stupid! You dead! Dirt-eater! Raven groomer (which was a particularly foul insult, if you were a crow)/ She called, her feathers ruffling in righteous anger.

Finally taking notice of the insults, the Dwarf slowly looked up and turned its head towards the source of the annoying name-calling, wincing as its neck seemed to protest at the movement. Finally a deep brown almond-shaped eye peered through the curtain of its greasy black hair to see only a young crow perched some twelve feet away, glaring back at him.

/Dirt-eater! I teach you, I pluck that eye out of your head when you dead again/ the crow challenged, how dare this corpse glare at her! Though hers was quite an empty threat (unless the Dwarf was dead of course), for while crows talk big, they are notorious cowards.

The Dwarf's eye narrowed as he sent the bird a chilling glare before going back to prying the axe out of his other hand. With harsh hiss, its soot covered face twisted in to a terrible grimace of pain, it finally managed to pull its thick fingers away from the axe handle. Panting with its exertions the Dwarf held the axe in it's good hand, staring at it. The broad hand that held the blood covered weapon shook ever so slightly as it continued to stare at it with an expression the crow couldn't place.

The Dwarf then closed its eye and began to murmur in a low tone, still holding the bloody axe. The crow did not know what the Dwarf spoke for she did not know the language of Dwarves. She assumed it was a prayer of some kind, but to who? She did not know or particularly care.

After a time the Dwarf fell silent and opened its eye again. The crow watched as the Dwarf tried to wipe as much of the dried blood off the axe as it could, using its own pant leg since there was nothing else at hand before putting the axe (with some difficulty, hampered by his broken arm) into the holster an his left side. Then, somehow, the Dwarf managed to slowly and awkwardly climb to its feet.

There it stood, swaying a bit with a dazed look on its face, one arm hanging limply at it's side. Squinting in the bright light of the sun over head, it then looked up the steep wall face of the quarry to the edge above. Then looking down at the warg on the ground nearby, the Dwarf put a hand unconsciously to his throat.

A sudden look of surprise then came over its short bearded face as the hand around its neck seemed to be feeling for something, but what ever that something was- it wasn't there. The Dwarf then began to look frantically about the ground around it before finally spotting the broken and twisted collar. Shocked realization came over its face as it stared at the bit of metal, hand still at his throat before glancing back to the dead warg.

The crow watched in agitated confusion as the Dwarf's hand dropped back to its side and its head slumped forward, the hair curtaining its face from view again. All was quite for a time… then the Dwarf's shoulders began to shake and a strange sound broke the silence.

It was like a series of soft dry gasping noises that began to gain in volume, and at first the crow thought the Dwarf was crying… but as the sound got louder she realized. The Dwarf wasn't crying it was laughing. Its shoulders shook in its strange mirth as the laughter continued to bubble out. Soon the laughing was echoing through the quarry, amplified and distorted by the tall stone walls so that it sounded more like the call of some strange sorrowful creature.

Then as suddenly at it had started the laughing suddenly stopped and the young Dwarf stood there silent and unmoving. The crow watched confused as a single drop of water fell to the gray stone by the Dwarf's boot. _Rain? _The crow glanced up to the sky above but saw no clouds.

Thoroughly mystified by the Dwarf's strange behavior, the crow watched as it finally looked up again, a strange expression shining in its one eye. Then giving the broken and twisted collar one final glance, the soot-covered Dwarf turned and simply began to walk away.

/Hey! Where you go! Stupid/

The Dwarf never looked back as he continued to walk away, out of the gray limestone quarry and eventually disappearing into the trees of the forest beyond.

The enraged and hungry crow continued to throw calls and insults after him. Where you go? Worm-face! Mud-rat! You not get far! You already dead! You Dead!she shrieked after him, hopping up and down and flapping her wings all the while in her frustration and anger_. She was still hungry!_

What neither the Dwarf nor the crow knew was that the durability of Aule's design had been tested and proven once again. For if Gimli had been of any other race other then a sturdy child of Aule, he would be dead. For no Elf, Man, or Hobbit would have survived that fall- let alone walked away from it.

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The day was sunny and bright. Birds sang and insects hummed in the canopy above, the clean scent of loam and living wood was in the warm air. The braches and green leaves of the trees above filtered the sunshine so it showed in a dappling of moving and shifting shapes on the lush green of the forest floor. Forest creatures happily went about their business; squirrels playing chattering games of 'tag' among the treetops as graceful deer grazed upon the tender shoots of the grass below. But one creature took no notice of the sunlight or the pleasant surroundings of the woods.

For how long he had walked and stumbled through the woods, he did not know. His broken arm hung limply at his side and he clutched his injured limb with his other good arm, attempting to keep it from swinging. Trying not to jar his other numerous injuries, it was all he could do to just keep going but it seemed to be a losing battle. He knew he didn't have long; the wounds from the goblin and orc blades alone would finish him off soon.

It was common knowledge that the orcs and goblins that infested the Blue Mountains did not poison their arrows and blades. They did however, have the nasty habit of slathering their blades with the rotting and foul flesh of corpses, insuring that any cut or wound inflicted by their weapons would be guarantied to become horribly infected.

He had begun to wheeze, as the muscles on his wounded side stiffened and tightened around his broken ribs, making the task of breathing ever harder. A painful ache was in his belly, no doubt due to some internal damage caused by the fall. His left eye was a pulsing agony that nearly made him dizzy with the pain of it.

He tripped several times, almost falling as he tried to navigate through the woods with his limited vision, but still he pushed himself on. All he knew was that he had to get as far away from… that place, as he could.

The crows final calls kept ringing in his head as he continued to force his body forward.

/_You not get far! You already dead! You dead!_/

He knew that the crow was right, he could feel it. A frightening numbness was creeping over him, he could feel it curling slowly about his heart, calling for him to stop and rest. It would be so easy to stop and just lie down for a little while…

He was torn; one part of him didn't care anymore- _so tired… just let the darkness come, _it whispered. Another part of him, the prideful Dwarven part of him, demanded he keep going- _I will die in a place of my own choosing_! Yet another part of him rallied against the darkness, crying out in fright as his body slowly began to shut down. _No! I want to live!_ that part of him raged, trying desperately to fight against the sucking darkness that was creeping over him.

He continued on lost in his own thoughts, as half-remembered memories and daydreams danced through his head. His pace got slower and slower but still he continued on. Then as if by magic he was out of the woods-- there was no longer grass under his feet but dirt. He was on a dirt road.

_What?_

He stood there blinking dumbly for several long moments, not comprehending what he was seeing before he realized that he had made it, he had reached the road. Somewhere down this road was the farming town of Telgore where they where supposed to meet up.

_"Yes that was it…suppose to meet up with the others…it will be good to see Svior and Nidi. I wonder why Ulfr's not here with me? Strange…must be waiting with Hanar and the others. That's it! They're waiting at Telgore for me, that's it...better hurry. Maybe Da's there too…waiting..,"_ Gimli thought to himself, his one eye glassy and dilated with fever as he stood there swaying a bit.

The wide dusty road cut through the forest like a deep scar, thick trees lining the road on both sides for as far as the eye could see in either direction. As he stood there on the side of the road he heard something off to his right, and he looked slowly up to see two Men with large travel packs and walking sticks. They wore the simple clothes of peasants and wide brim straw hats, _most likely farmers_, Gimli thought to himself. They both hurried past him, throwing curious and disgusted glances over their shoulders as they walked away.

"Did you see that?" One hissed to the other.

"Yah. Stinkin' Dwarves, this area be full of them," A ring of disgust was in the Man's voice as they whispered amongst themselves.

Gimli watched them go, a dazed look on his soot and blood covered face. At any other time he would have taken it upon himself to beat the stuffing out of anyone who would have dared say something like that within his hearing. But at the moment he didn't care- instead he was just trying to stay upright as a sudden wave of severe vertigo took hold. He clutched at his head with his one good hand as the world began to spin wildly.

He swayed dangerously and stumbled; then his back came into sudden harsh contact with the trunk of a large Oak tree. He let out a groan, grimacing in pain as the many cuts running along his back flared to agonizing life. That was the last straw as his shaking legs finally collapsed under him and he slid down the tree, leaving a stain of dirt and blood on the trunk, into an ungraceful heap on the ground. His axes, still safely in their holsters, gave muffled clinks as they hit the ground. He gave a pained yelp at the harsh jarring of his ribs and arm, and there was but a moment of panicbefore the darkness came rushing up to plunge him into unconsciousness. _No! I…_

There he stayed, insensible, his legs sprawled out in front of him, the tree at his back propping him up in a slouched sitting position. He looked like some strange, filthy soot-covered doll, broken and forgotten. And there he stayed.

The noon sun continued to shine cheerily above in a cloudless blue sky, as the birds sang undisturbed in the branches, with only the occasional traveler walking down the road to give the dirty slumped figure a curious look as they walked past.

------------------------

"Gimli…Gimli. Awake child!" A deep voice whispered.

The small child blinked open tired brown eyes to see his mother kneeling over him as she gently gave him another shake. She wore a thin sleeveless undershirt that was a deep green and pair of brown trousers, tucked into a pair of scuffed up boots. Her two axes 'Fire Reaper' and Star Smasher' hung at her sides on a thick leather belt buckled about her waist. Her beard hung from her chin in a simple braid, and her thick copper hair was tied back from her face in a loose ponytail that hung below her waist. With a face-cracking yawn Gimli sat up from the cocoon of blankets he and his brothers were curled up in.

"Mother?" he asked in confusion, scrubbing tiredly at one of his eyes. He did not understand what was going on as his mother picked him up, plucking him out from the warm nest of his blankets and siblings. Nin mumbled something in his sleep before rolling into Gimli's vacated spot, but otherwise did not wake. Nor did his older brother Daira who slept undisturbed, curled up on his side.

"Mother, yawn 'is time to get up?"

"No, 'tis still late," she told him in a whisper, mindful of the other sleeping occupants of their wagon (and most especially his baby sister) before setting him down again. He watched her tuck the blankets back around his two brothers before moving away towards the back of the wagon where the chest that held all of the children's clothes was kept. As his mother opened the chest and began rooting around for some clothes, Gimli let out another yawn and looked tiredly about the dark interior of their family's home.

The wagon's main door was open, allowing the starlight to come in as well as the night sounds of singing insects. The wagon was large with four small windows on either side; the walls as well as the roof were made of wood, rather then canvas like some wagons. There were several large chests that held their clothes and other things like valuables, and materials such as semi-precious stones, bits of silver and other supplies for the jewelry that both Gloin and Oin would make to sell at towns and villages. Half of the wagon's floor was covered in a large thick fur rug made of bear skin, and it was on this half that the family slept with their thick blankets. On the other side was a small low table along with a several cushions and pillows scattered about, as well as most of the chests. Two lamps (at the moment unlit) hung from the ceiling along with various tools and a scattering of bundles of sweet smelling herbs. Hidden about the wagon were several weapons with in easy grabbing distance- there was even a trapdoor in the floor incase of emergency.

His father slept in his usual spot near the door, snoring softly on his back. Both Gloin and Nei always slept nearest to the door; if any intruder tried to come in, they'd have to deal with the two of them first. His Uncle slept farthest in, by the hidden trapdoor. The children slept between the three adults- Gimli's baby sister slept peacefully bundled up in the large whicker basket that sat next to the tangled nest of blankets that he and his brothers slept in. When little Minal outgrew the basket that doubled as a basinet, she'd join her brothers on the floor.

"Here we are," his mother said, coming back over to kneel next to him with a small blue tunic and a bit of rope in hand. "Off with your nightshirt," she ordered him.

He did as he was told and pulled the threadbare smock over his head, causing his copper hair to stick up at odd angles. Nei gave a soft laugh before taking his nightshirt and tossing it into the basket they used for clothes that needed washing.

"You are a scruffy looking one, aren't you?" She chuckled, running her thick fingers through his hair, smoothing it back down. "There, that's better. Alright, arms up." The blurry-eyed child did as ordered and Nei slipped the blue cloth over his head, tugging it down. The tunic hung down almost to his knees and was made of coarse fabric of cheap weave, but it was warm and durable.

"Mother, this is Nin's tunic! Mines red!" the little boy grumped, glaring down at the blue material as his mother tied the bit of rope around his small waist.

"Sshhh! I know it is, but I don't think your brother will mind. 'Sides, yours needs a good wash, after you jumped in that mud puddle yesterday. There now," she said, finished with tying his makeshift belt.

"Well I mind. Humph! Reds better then blue!" Gimli pouted- he always got a bit cranky when he was tired. Nei just smiled, ruffling his hair before walking towards the door. The noise had apparently awoken Gloin for he shifted and raised his head.

"Nei?" He called in question, his eyes blinking tiredly as he sat up, the thick blankets pooling around his waist. The starlight from the open door painted his bare chest and face a pale blue, while his long inky black hair seemed to blend perfectly with the dark shadows.

"Go back to sleep. There be no cause for alarm. Back to sleep, my Love," she told him in Khuzdul, before leaning down to give him a deep kiss on the mouth.

"Mmmm."

"Can I have another one of those?" Gloin asked with a lazy smile when they broke apart. Nei let out a soft chuckle.

"Greedy, are we?" she said, in a husky voice.

"Very," Gloin agreed with a devilish grin, before gently tugging her down with a grip on her beard while he leaned up to claim her lips once more.

"Mmm, mmmm." The kiss was deeper and more heated this time.

"Now, back to sleep," she ordered when they had finally broke apart again, and gave Gloin one final nip on his swollen lower lip. With that Gloin gladly did as he was told, a contented smile on his face as he lay back down and within a few moments he was softly snoring again. Nei shook her head in amusement as she stood up, mumbling something under her breath about "Males".

"Come, Gimli," she then called softly over her shoulder, before stepping out the door and down the wagon's three steps. With one final longing look at his warm bed and blissfully sleeping sibling, the little boy turned and trotted after his mother.

When he got out the door he paused, then jumped off the top step instead of using the stairs, landing with a light thump on the cool grass below. His mother just rolled her eyes from where she stood waiting nearby- Gimli was her only child that seemed unable to 'walk' down stairs and other similar obstacles. Even regular 'walking' meant 'running', usually with lots of yelling; in other words, Gimli was what we would call a rather hyperactive child.

"Come," she called again, holding out a broad calloused hand for him to take. Gimli quickly trotted to his mother's side, taking her hand. Then off they went as she led him away from their caravans camp.

Their camp consisted of the caravan's six wagons arranged in a defensive horseshoe shape with a large campfire in the center. Aside for the two guards, Nei and Gimli were the only ones up. Nei gave a final wave to Thekk as they passed the blond hawk-noses Dwarf who was on guard duty that night. He returned the wave before going back to carving on a piece of wood by the fire, a large battle-axe next to him.

With the exception of the singing cicadas, the night was quiet as Nei continued to lead Gimli further away until their camp's fire was but a small flickering light in the distant darkness behind them. But that did not disturb Gimli as the four year old trotted next to his mother, happily swinging their linked hands, completely unafraid with the confidence only a child can have. Safe in the firm belief that as long as their parent is there, nothing can really go wrong, nothing can hurt them.

Now that Gimli was more awake he started to take more notice of his surroundings- the cool grass under his bare feet, the warm breeze that ruffled his hair and the sweet smell of the purple flowers that grew with abundance in this area perfuming the air. As well as the comforting sounds of his mother's heavy footsteps, the creak of leather and the occasional clink of the two axes at her sides.

"Remember to always keep one eye out for danger, young one, even in a seemingly safe place like this. For danger can lurk anywhere. So we must always be alert." She reminded him, scanning the darkness around them as they walked.

"Fear not, Mother! I'll protect us from any monsters that dare show their face!" Gimli told her, in all confidence. He puffed up his small chest before throwing a few punches at some invisible opponent, nearly tripping over his own feet while he ducked and dodged. Nei let out a deep laugh as she peered down at him, still in combat with his invisible foe.

"Only peach fuzz on your face and already the fierce warrior, I see. I don't think Middle-earth is ready for Gimli, King of the Wall Climbers," she laughed, lifting up her hand that still clasped Gimli's small one, until the now giggling little boy was completely off the ground.

"Not, Wall Climbers!" He told her indignantly. "I'll be Gimli, the Dreaded! Like in the stories!" he told her, swinging his legs in the air as he dangled from his mother's muscular upraised arm.

"Oh forgive me! Gimli, the Dreaded!" She laughed as she continued to walk, the little boy giggling happily as Nei began to 'bounce' him by letting his feet touch the ground so he could push off back up into the air. She did this a few more times before letting him walk on his own again.

They continued on their way through the grassy meadow, Nei's steps unhurried as the child next to her continued to happily swing their linked hands as he alternated between skipping and walking. He could now see that his mother was leading him to a small hill that stuck out of the middle of the meadow, like some long sleeping turtle (both he and Nin had found it a perfect place to play "King of the Mountain"). The shadowed forms of the Blue Mountains watched in the near distance beyond, while a sea of stars swirled overhead. There was no moon that night so the stars twinkled uninhibited in all their grandeur.

Finally they reached the hill and climbed to the top, giving them a perfect view of the night sky above. Nei sank down to sit comfortably cross-legged, before tugging the now hopping Gimli down to sit on her lap in front of her.

"Now, all we have to do is wait." she told him, while taking out a comb from a pouch on her belt.

"Wait? Wait for what?" Gimli asked, confused as he obediently sat still as his mother began to comb his hair. Grooming was a very important part of Dwarven family life.

"Something special, just keep your eyes to the heavens." she told him cryptically, giving a knowing smile when the little boy in front of her gave an impatient huff.

"But, what is it? All I see are stars!" He whined, squirming a little as Nei worked at a tangle.

"Patience! You will see," She chuckled as she continued to brush his hair, taking a special pleasure in seeing that her son had hair so like her own.

There they sat for a time in comfortable silence. Gimli dutifully watched the stars twinkling above as Nei combed his hair and deftly braided it into a thick tail, before reaching back into the pouch on her belt for a small strip of leather, tying it off.

"There! Now you're Gimli, the Handsome!" She chuckled, giving his hair a final pat before tucking the comb back in to her belt as Gimli looked up over his shoulder.

"Mother?" He asked, turning around.

"Aye?" she answered, taking in the thoughtful look on his young face.

"How come, you didn't bring Nin and Daira with us? Why just me?" he asked, and for several moments Nei said nothing as a strange expression came over her face. Gimli waited patiently, his head tilting curiously, not understanding his mother's expression.

Finally Nei gave a sad smile and cupped his face in her broad hands. Calloused hands that were easily capable of bending metal and crushing bones held her child's small face, gently brushing his soft cheek with a thumb as she studied him. Gimli said nothing as he watched his mother with big curious brown eyes, until she finally spoke again.

"I had a dream," she said finally, releasing his face.

"Was it a good dream?" he asked.

"I know not," she told him truthfully, with a shrug

"What did you dream?" He asked, his childish curiosity peaked. She seemed to debate with herself whether or not to tell him, idly stroking her braided beard before finally deciding that there would be no harm in it.

"I dreamt of a warrior, walking alone. I know not why but there was a great sadness to him, as if he carried the weight of the very mountains on his shoulders.

"He was off to war, marching on a deserted gray road with only black-burnt land about him. A single great mountain stood at his back as he marched towards a dark foreboding mountain in the distance, that spewed smoke and flame. He carried 'Fire Reaper' and 'Star Smasher' on his belt, and "Blood Screamer" at his back.

"He was of good height and fit, broad of shoulder and trim of waist. A thick braid of copper hair trailed from under his helm with a comely braided beard on his handsome face. But it was his eyes… They were nothing but flame! As if he was nothing but fire inside," she told the child on her lap, his big liquid eyes wide, listening intently.

"The warrior marched on and suddenly the gray road was no longer, now it was a place of rivers and trees in the reds and browns of autumn. Then a frosty land of screaming winds and snow an ice. Once again things shifted and he then walked in a dark ancient place of cold stone and terrible sorrow! The darkness receded and he walked in a gigantic forest of strange golden light, the sound of foreign singing in the air, that melted away into rolling fields of tall golden grass. The land continued to shift and change, a dark frightening forest, a bloody battlefield, wondrous caves of incredible beauty, more battlefields and then a white stone city. Until finally he stopped and stood on the sandy shore of what could only be the great sea.

"It was then I noticed that there was a single set of light foot prints in the sand; they were particular, not made by a Dwarven foot- like Men yet…something else. They led into the sea, disappearing into the waves.

"Then over the roar of the waves and the crying of sea birds, a fair voice in some strange tongue rang out. And all other sound seem to cease in its wake. It called to the fire-eyed warrior and he looked up and paid heed as the voice sang. Then he began to walk forward into the sea until…he disappeared beneath the waves. Then all that was left were his footprints, next to the strange ones. Leading into the sea," she finished softly, her gaze turned inwards as a frown marred her face.

A sudden shiver ran up Gimli's spine as he watched his mothers face, with her almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbone and strong jaw.

"What does it mean?" he asked, in a hushed whisper.

"I know not, little one. But I liked it not," she told him, her eyes narrowing at her own thoughts.

"After that, was when I awoke," she continued, looking back down at him. "Then I remembered that tonight there was something very special that would take place. I was going to take both you and Nin, but it seemed important I show you alone… for the warrior in my dream was…" she trailed off, seeming to struggle for the right words. She opened her mouth again as if she would say more but nothing came out, and she gave her head a shake before quickly changing the subject.

"Do you know what your mannish name(2.) means?" She asked suddenly, giving an internal 'thank you' that Gimli was still of the age where he could be easily distracted. She watched him give a few confused blinks before switching gears and answering her, the moment before seeming forgotten .

"Da says my names means 'pain-in-the-arse' and he said Nin's means 'head-pain'!" He told her proudly, a big smile on his small face while he scratched at an itch on his arm.

"Remind me to have a long talk with your father when we return." Nei said, an eyebrow cocked. "But as true as it seems at times- 'that' is not what your or your bothers names mean."

"What do they mean then?" He asked, his head cocked curiously.

"Nin does not mean 'head-pain', it means "Water". As for you, it has two meanings- for your name means two different things in two languages of Men. Gimli, means 'Fire' in one and 'Star' in another.

"It was on a night much like this, that I birthed both you and your brother.

"I know not why, but your brother's birth was near pain free with almost no blood. "He came out a smooth as water" Lady Frost , said, while helping me clean him up. So quiet, nary a cry out of him." Nei said, a wistful smile on her face as she recalled the memory. She then looked back down at Gimli with raised eyebrow, the smile still on her face but it was now rueful.

"That all changed when it was your turn, though." She said wryly. "Child, I thought you would be the death of me; Lady Frost thought so too. There was so much blood and the pain! I have never felt its like! I screamed so loudly I thought I would shake down the very heavens!"

"I found out later from your uncle that your father fainted twice!" She added, with a bark of laughter.

"Males, Hrummff! You would think 'he' was the one doing all the work!" She snorted, before continuing her story.

"Well, after hours of pain and straining, you were finally born. Covered in blood, and kicking! Not but seconds from the womb and already fighting! And such a wail! A creature so small should not be able to make such a loud noise!" she laughed again, giving Gimli's chin a gentle tug.

"But it was when I finally held you both in my arms, under the stars that night. That I named you. While you both looked identical, you where clearly opposites already. 'Nin', water would be your brothers name. For he never cried once, and has been to this day my easiest birth, just sleeping peacefully, blissfully unconcerned about anything.

Then I turned to you; you had stopped crying so I had thought that like your brother you too where also asleep. But you were not, instead your eyes were gazing above so intently at the stars; the light of our fire reflecting in those brown eyes of yours.

It was then I decided. Gimli, 'fire' would be your name. For you where the opposite of your brother, and 'Gimli' for the stars above. May they guide you no matter what road you walk nor how dark it gets," she told him, a deep love shining in her dark eyes as she bent down touching her forehead to his.

"Gimli, my child of fire and stars." She said softly.

She then gave an excited gasp as she moved back, catching sight of something over Gimli's head.

"Its time!" She told him suddenly, picking him up and turning the confused child around in her lap.

"Wha? I don't… " What ever else Gimli was going to say was lost as he gave a gasp of surprise and delight. A shooting star streaked through the night sky soon followed by another, then another, until the heavens where alive with them. Gimli watched in awe at the barrage of colors as blues, greens, reds, and brilliant whites streaked over head in a dazzling display (3.).

"This is what I wanted to show you, little one. For this night, the stars are at war!" she whispered in his ear, a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her lips. She was enjoying the show as much as the delighted child in her arms, both giving periodic gasps of delight at particularly brilliant flares or pointing out the occasional star to each other.

And there they stayed until the dawn, mother and child watching the heavens above as the cicadas serenaded them…

-----------------------------

Awareness began to slowly creep back over him.

/_"_Ugly little hairball, isn't it?"/

/"Is it dead?"/

/"Are you deaf, Mirkalo? Can you not hear it wheezing?"/

/_"_Look at it… looks like its been living in a coal bin."/

/_"_Or a coal mine, perhaps? There are several in this area, if I remember correctly."/

/"Well, they do like holes in the ground, probably doesn't matter what kind."/

_Wha…Voices?_

sniff/"It reeks of goblin!"/

sniff, sniff /"Warg too."/ Phew!

/"What could have happened to him…look at his injuries."/

/"We best be careful. Where's there's one naugrim, there's usually more."/

The comforting darkness began to recede and Gimli found himself returning slowly to the conscious world. At first he thought he was still caught in another dream, but no dream was ever so painful. _So surely I must be awake, _he thought.

Strange voices were speaking around him. He couldn't understand what was being said but the voices were light and lilting, the foreign words strung together like a poem or bits of broken song. It was like a soothing music to his ears after hearing only the shrieking of Orcs or the screams of rage and pain.

/"Eh, eh, Naug, awake! 'Tis a wondrous day,"/ said a singsong voice in that strange language near him.

/"They don't care about the weather."/

/"Shush!"/

At first when he tried to move- he couldn't. Only the solid presence of the oak tree at his back kept him upright, his muscles stiff from abuse and exhaustion. The dull thrum of agony rippled through him in waves; the searing pain in his ribs flared with every shallow breath along with the great throb in his eye on the left side of his swollen face.

But he was so exhausted and weak he couldn't even grimace in pain anymore, let alone speak. It all acted as a terrible reminder of what had happened under the stars at the quarry, and the horror back at the now burning remains of Black Hollow.

/"We should give him some water."/

/"Why?"/

/"Yes, it will definitely take more then all our combined water-skins to wash that filth off."/ Peals of silvery laughter followed.

/"If you do not wish to assist the poor creature, then why in Arda did you insist on stopping, Altseld?"/

/"Quiet, Mirekalo!"/

Finally Gimli was able to slowly turn his face up in the direction of the silvery voices, then with a monumental effort he managed to open his one good eye. At first he could see nothing; the light was blinding in its intensity. Rich tinkling laughter greeted his ears as one of the voices that had spoken earlier apparently took notice of his movements.

/"I'd almost forgotten just how ugly these creatures are!"/

/"Stop it, brother!"/

/"Hey look, it's coming around."/

/"By Iluvatar it stinks! How can you stand to get any closer, Altseld?"/

Slowly the blinding haze faded from his eye and three figure came into focus. They stood about six feet away from his out stretched legs, they were tall like Men. Yet elongated, finer…sleeker. Not Men …but…_Elves_, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. They were Elves!

Truly the tales had not lied- they were beautiful. When he was younger his father had once pointed out some Elves to him but they had worn concealing cloaks, and when Gimli was older he would see them occasionally but always at a distance. But now seeing some of the Elvish folk up close, he could see why they were admired as the fairest of beings.

Delicately leaf shaped ears, high cheek bones and inviting lips were set in smooth elegant faces. Their skin was fair like polished alabaster with an almost opalescent sheen. All three had flashing eyes that could rival any gem of sapphire or emerald dug from the earth. Two had hair of cascading white gold while the other had that of deep flowing onyx, spilling about his shoulders. The smaller of the blonds wore his hair tied back into an intricate braid, interlaced with green ivy that hung down his back. The taller blond, whose hair was loose save for two small braids behind his ears stood closer to Gimli than his two companions. The three beings seemed to radiate a glow, as if there was a light emanating from within them. Like quicksilver and moonstone come to life.

Their clothes were of deep flowing greens and rich browns like that of the forests they no doubt roamed, finely made boots of soft leather molded to their long slender legs. All three carried well-crafted bows with quivers full of leaf thatched arrows on their backs, and the taller blond also carried an intricate sword of Elven make, belted at his slim waist. Their bodies were lithe like elegant cats, graceful as swans and as fleet footed as deer. Gimli thought they belonged more in a beautiful painting or some fanciful poem rather then standing on the dirt road in front of him.

He could only gaze upon them in wonder as they talked and laughed amongst themselves in their flowing silvery tongue.

But as he watched and became more aware, their glamour began to fade and the realization finally started to come to him, and his heart sank. He knew not what they spoke but he knew now that they were laughing at him.

Where once he had seen smiles, there were now sneers. Their flashing jewel-like eyes, now critical as they took in his filthy and haggard form. The soothing laughter was now mocking as they motioned to his torn clothes, little more then dirty rags. While he had been looking at them in wonder, admiring them (for all Dwarves admire things of beauty), they had been looking at him in disgust and jest.

He felt hurt, betrayed, and for the first time in Gimli's life he wanted to cover himself up in shame and crawl away to hide somewhere. For the first time, Gimli felt small, pitiful… ugly. Yet all he could do was continue to wheeze as he struggled to breathe; only his one eye gave away what he felt.

"He's probably a drunk- got robbed or picked a fight. You know how 'they' are," suggested the one with black hair, switching to common as he waved his hand in front of his face as if to ward away Gimli's stink. "Elbereth, it reeks! Come! Lets us go."

Gimli now knew why his mother and elders talked with such bitterness about Elves. They were truly marvelous to look upon but they were arrogant in their standing, vain in their beauty, and cruel in their amusement.

"Hold up, Ilsasinyo," said the blond closest to him. The tall Elf crouched down, balancing gracefully on the balls of his feet, looking at Gimli with the same gleam in his eye as that of a child who rips the wings off insects and terrorizes small animals.

"If he were a drunk we'd smell the ale, but that's one of the only things I'm not smelling," he said, his straight nose wrinkling in disgust before he gave a truly nasty smile. Strangely it reminded Gimli of the sneering faces of the Orcs.

"I know what it is. It's a beggar! You're a beggar, aren't you little naug?" He asked the limp Dwarf, who could only glare balefully back at him with one flashing brown eye.

/"Leave him be, Altseld! Stop it!"/ pleaded the other blond Elf who was standing the farthest away. Unlike the indifferent and uncaring black-hair Elf and the insulting blond Elf that stood peering down at Gimli, this one looked at the wheezing and dirty figure with pity in his sapphire-blue eyes (though Gimli could not see it from his position nor understand the language). / "Come! Let us go!"/

"Wait a moment!" Altseld snapped at the other two before turning his attention back to Gimli. "Well, little Beggar-beard, you are in luck! I'm feeling generous today and I know what would make you feel better," he said, pulling a small purse from the green folds of his tunic. He took out a single gold coin before tucking the purse away again.

"Look- gold!" He smiled condescendingly, waving the coin in front of Gimli's face like a treat. The black haired Elf looked bored as he picked at one of his nails, while the second blond with the braid looked away, disturbed at what he was seeing.

"Dwarves like gold, yes? Well, here." And with that he tossed the coin at him, it landed with a soft 'clink' next to Gimli's left boot.

But the Dwarf only glared at the smirking Elf, taking no notice of the coin, his one eye burning with rage.

"Go on, now. It's yours…go on! Reach for it. Pick it up… come now, you can do it!" The Elf said in a sweet condescending voice, as if encouraging a dog to do a trick.

"Go on, it's gold. Dwarves like gold, don't they? Isn't that what all your kind want? Gold?"

Yet, still the wheezing Dwarf didn't move.

tisk, tisk "You're not a very good beggar if you don't take the kindness that's given to you!" The blond Elf scolded, looking Gimli right in the eye, seeming to drink in the sight of him.

Gimli hadn't looked at the coin even once, instead he continued to glare balefully at that beautiful face. With it's jewel blue eyes, dancing with cruel amusement, and it's elegant face pulled into a condescending smile.

_It's true! Elves are heartless, condescending creatures! _He thought, bitterly.

Another part of him was disturbed and disgusted that a being so beautiful could say and do things so ugly, and it made him remember something his mother told him once.

_"Nothing can disguise the ugliness of the soul. No matter how beautiful the face."_

_"_Hmm… Maybe it's a simpleton, as well as a beggar?" The blond laughed, glancing over his shoulder at the other two. The black-hair Elf gave an amused chuckle, but the other blond said nothing

Gimli's heart burned with fire, as rage and humiliation swept through him like maelstrom. _After all he had been through, to listen to this mocking? By these hollow, uncaring and cruel beings! Curse Elves, curse them all! _He would have spit right in that pretty face if he could have, he would have gladly killed all three of them. But all he could do was internally scream his rage at the insults and humiliation.

The strain of his emotions was to much for his already over-taxed body to take, and the black tide of darkness came rushing back to swallow him again.

The three Elves watched the Dwarf's one eye suddenly roll-up in it's socket before his head slumped back onto its chest. The blond Elf seeing that his fun was over, gave a shrug and turned to his fellows with a laugh.

"How about that, he was so grateful he fainted! Well, I've done my kind deed for the day," he laughed, getting up in a graceful motion while he knocked imaginary dust off his leggings.

/"Your kindness is awe inspiring,"/ said the dark-haired Elf, sarcastically while shaking his head.

/"What do you mean by that? I gave him a gold coin and he didn't even thank me properly for it, I should have taken it back! Yet I let him keep it- if that was not kind of me. What else could it be?"/ snorted Altseld in mock indignation, but the dark-hair Elf only rolled his emerald green eyes.

/"You were cruel."/ Said a quiet voice full of scorn, from behind them. They both turned in surprise to the young blond Elf with the braid, who was watching them both with a look of disgust on his fair face.

/"What?"/ The other blond Elf said, his blue eyes showing his surprise in his other wise blank face. As if not believing what he had heard, the dark Elf also looked a bit surprised at what the younger Elf had said.

/"I said you were cruel! Why do this? Why did you do that, taunting him? You cou-"/

/"You do not know of what you speak child/ Altseld hissed defensively at the younger Elf, who flinched at the force of the older Elf's sudden anger. /"Cruelty? You know nothing! I was there at the sack of Menegroth! I know these creatures and they are little better then orcs or goblins! Living in the dirt like greedy badgers! Raping the earth for their own gains, destroying anything that is not their own. They care for nothing other than gold and ale. And they would happily slit any throat to get it!"/

/"If that is so, dear brother. Why did he not take that coin you so generously gave him? The look in his eye, did you not see it? The wounds on his body? He must have been in a fight! Look at the black blood… can you not see it?"/ Said the young Elf quietly, disappointment and accusation shining in his eyes. /"I am disgusted by what you did!"/

/"What! How dare you judge me!"/ Snapped Altseld, his eyes wide and flashing with anger as he stormed over to the younger Elf.

Seeing the growing tension, the black-hair Elf decided to step in and play 'peace-maker'.

/"So Altseld got a little carried away, is was all in fun./ he said, stepping in-between the two fuming brothers. /What is the matter? I agree 'twas not nice, but remember, little Mire. Naugrim are soulless. Merely Aule's puppets to keep him entertained- you remember the story of Iluvatar letting Aule keep them.

/"So why this anger between you?"/ He said calmly looking between the two. He was surprised again when the younger Elf turned and gave him the same look he had been giving Altseld.

/"I find it even more unsettling that you truly believe that,"/ Mirekalo said quietly. /"I do not care for Dwarves and I agree that they are crude, ugly, and unpleasant beings. But there is no excuse for ignorance or cruelty! That is the way of Men…not Elves."/ He stated, now glaring at the two older Elves.

Just as Altseld was going to step up to his young brother, his eyes burning with a truly frightening anger, the three heard something coming their way down the road.

The three Elves immediately froze and listened intently. They could make out the creaking of wooded wheels and the clopping hooves of oxen and a small horse, as well as the voices of people talking, getting closer in the distance.

/"Humans, with two wagons…four or five humans."/ Said Ilsasinyo, looking in the direction of the sounds further down the road.

/"This is not over, young one! We will speak of this matter when we reach Lindon!"/ Altseld promised gravely to the younger Elf, anger still smoldering in his eyes. /"Now, let us go!"/ he ordered, and with that he stormed away, followed by the dark-hair Elf.

Mirekalo watched them go before giving the short slumped body a final pitying look. He had learned something here today. But it was a hard lesson for the young Elf to swallow. He watched the Dwarf for a few more moments before he too sprinted lightly off after his companions.

The three elegant forms bounded away as graceful as deer, disappearing into the thick woods like fluttering lights. Leaving the road, the Dwarf and the gold coin behind.

So ended Gimli's first real encounter with Elves…

----------------------------------

The creak and groan of wooden wagon wheels along with the slow clopping of hooves filled the air. As the sound of wagons got closer, voices raised in song could now be heard.

"The road goes ever on and on down in th-"

"Mother! Mother!" cried the voice of a young boy, interrupting the singing.

"Aye. What's wrong with ya' now?" answered a smooth feminine voice.

"Look!"

"What?"

"There, by that tree, look!"

"Where, I don't - oh! Now I see."

"Momma? What's wrong with that man?" asked a small high voice of a young child.

"I don't know…"

"That's not a Man," stated a gravelly female voice. "Tis a Dwarf, young one by the looks of im'."

"He looks dead!" Said the boy's voice.

"Looks like it- whoa, whoa now! Blasted oxen! Whoa! Harrumph! There now, lets get a better look." Said the gravelly female voice, followed by a creak of wood then the crunching of gravel.

"Mother! Come back here! Mother! Istan, get down and get your Grandmother away from there!"

"Calm down, Raya. I'm old, not senile! Now what do we have here…"

"Wow! Look at those axes! Think he was in a battle!" cried the boy's voice, in excitement.

"By the looks of im' I'd say; yes."

"He smells bad- look! A gold coin!

'Might as well take it, I don't think he'll be using it," the gravely voice sighed.

"Is he dead?"

"No, he still breathes. But not for long; looks like bad infection in those wounds. Broken arm…broke ribs… fever, sigh it won't be long. Shame, one so young…," the voice of the old woman answered gravelly

"Look black blood- orc blood! With those axes, I bet he killed lots and lots of 'um! Like whoosh! Wham! They're dead, guts all flying out, blood -"

"Istan! What have I told you?" Scolded the smooth female voice.

"Sorry, Mama. Still though- I be he could have taken all those crooks that robbed us the day before! The shit-eating bastards!"

"Istan! Language!"

sigh "Sorry, Mama."

"Hmmm…lots and lots… ," The gravelly voice murmured to itself, before calling out again.

"Raya!"

"Aye?" The boy's mother answered.

"Get down and give me a hand. Istan, get hold of his legs."

"Mother? What are ya doing?" Cried the younger woman.

grunt "Trying to break my back, what does it look like? Now get over here and take his arm. Istan, you better go get your sister to help."

"Mother?"

"This seems like the perfect opportunity to give your skills a challenge."

"And just why are we doing this? Ooghf! He's heavy!"

"Grandmother? What is that?" yelled out a new feminine voice, in shock.

"Oh good, Surya. 'This' is our new patient. Now help your brother and get his legs. Careful, Raya! That arm's broke. As for the why? It will be a chance to test our skill; it has been many long years since I healed a Dwarf. And a first for you, Raya, grunt and if he dies anyway we can always use him for parts."  
gasp "Mother! You don't mean that!"

"In a Elf Lord's eye, I do! There be areas in the east and south that pay handsomely for real Dwarf parts- twice that for Elf parts. Lets see…powdered Dwarf bone for strength, Dwarven hair for courage and battle prowess, grunt there are even some areas where they believe that a special 'Dwarven penis soup' will guarantee potent virility for life. snort Need I go on?"

"Point taken; yet I hope it does not come to that."

"As do I. grunt Dwarves are a pain to dismember. Now let us get him in the second wagon."

--------------------------

_It was sunny, the sky filled with white puffy clouds that drifted lazily above. Below, the land was in the full blush of spring, with meadows of tall grass and flowers, fragrant shrubs of dark green and a scattering of flowering trees dotting the hilly landscape. Outcroppings of rocks and boulders also rose from the sea of green, like islands of stone. The area was surrounded on either side by the tall reassuring shapes of mountains in the distance, their peaks still white capped._

_A long hollow call of an owl cut through the air, followed by another series of calls. At one of these rock islands, the head of a Dwarven child popped up from behind a large rock (a small boulder really), its exact mirror image popping up a moment later beside the first._

_"That was Da!" Said the first child, turning to his twin who wore a simple blue tunic._

_"Think lunch is ready?" The second asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his arm. Both of them were grubby with dirt and dust from their earlier rough-housing and searching._

_The other six-year-old just gave a shrug of his shoulders while he wiped his dirty hands off on his simple red tunic before tucking a stray copper lock behind an ear. They both wore simple brown breeches that ended about mid-calf, with large patches on the knees, and both went 'Hobbit style' for neither wore shoes._

_"I hope so." Gimli answered._

_"Come on, Minal!" Nin called, as both he and Gimli scrambled over the large rock, behind which they had been searching for semi-precious stones._

_A little raven-haired girl looked up from where she had been sitting nearby, playing with something in the grass near the outcropping of rocks where Gimli and Nin had been searching. She whispered to something in her hands then clasped them together, before getting up and dashing off after her two brothers in the direction the calls had come._

_The two dark copper-haired twins raced one another through the tall grass that came up to their waist. Nin's long hair was tied back in a loose pony-tail with two thick forelocks in front of his ears, while Gimli's hair snaked behind him in a braid also with two thick forelocks left loose. Little Minal raced after them, her loose raven locks whipping behind her, what ever it was still held safely clasped in her hands as she ran._

_In the distance they could see two adult Dwarves, both had raven-black hair and beards. They were clad plainly in simple trousers and sleeveless shirts that they wore when the weather was warm, with sturdy boots and belt. They both wore long brown stocking caps on their heads and the more broadly-built of the two had a long red pheasant feather in his cap; marking him as the elder of the two and as head male of their family._

_Gloin was just cupping his hands around his mouth again to let out another call, when Oin smacked his older brother lightly on the shoulder._

_"Here they come," Oin said, as he gestured off to their left. They both watched as Gimli and Nin came over a rise in the near distance, racing through the tall grass of the field towards them soon followed by their younger sister. The sound of movement from behind them alerted Gloin and Oin to Daria's arrival, and the two adults turned to their attention to the older boy as he walked up to join them._

_"Oye! Time for lunch, Da?" Daira asked, a smile on his short-bearded face as he came to stand next to his father's other side. Similar to his younger siblings, he wore a pair of simple brown trousers and a light tan colored tunic, but he wore boots (unlike Gimli, Nin, and Minal). Like his father, his thick dark-hair was tucked into a dark brown stocking-cap, his clothes were dusty and he carried a small sack over one broad shoulder his hands still covered in dirt._

_"Should be, we also have a visitor at camp." Gloin told him, before gesturing to the sack Daira was holding. "Any luck?"_

_"Aye, I found four geodes(4.) and some rose quartz near some limestone boulders over there," Daira said, jabbing a thumb back in the direction he had come before handing the sack over to Oin._

_"So…who is it?" Daira asked, curious. Not many people visited wandering folk like them and the list of possible visiting relatives was even shorter. Gloin just waved him off as he looked over his younger brother's shoulder._

_"You'll see," he said._

_Oin, who had opened the sack and was looking over his nephews findings, picked up a medium sized geode and held in the palm of his broad hand with his thick fingers wrapped around it. He gave it a few taps, checking the quality and resonance of the crystals inside._

_"Purple crystal this one, no space. Should be perfect for that necklace and earrings you're making, Gloin." he said before putting it back, then repeating the process with the other ones. "Blue- some space, white- no space, another purple- solid! The rose quartz- a bit clear. Good for charms, though," Oin said, looking up at Gloin who gave a nod, stroking his beard in thought._

_"Good job, Daira!" Gloin then praised his beaming son, giving him a loving whack on the back._

_"Excellent! If the purple crystal is dark enough, I might be able to make that gold necklace and bracelet I've been planning."_

_It was then that Gimli and Nin finally reached them, and the three Dwarves looked up to see the copper-haired twins in front of them panting from their race._

_"I won!" They both chorused at the same time, then frowning they turned to glare at one another._

_"No, I won!" The yelled simultaneously again, still glaring at one another._

_"Did not! I won!"_

_"No you didn't!"_

_"Did too!_

_"Did not!"_

_"Did Too!"_

_"NOT!"_

_"TOO!"_

_"NO!"_

_"YES!"_

_"N- gggrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"_

_"STOP COPPING ME!_

_"Quiet, both of you! Gloin yelled, in exasperation. He stepped forward to yank the twins apart, who were now face-to-face yelling at one another. It was a bit disconcerting that they were still speaking (or yelling) simultaneously._

_"Yah! Ya losers! Sides, I was first." Daira said, crossing his arms over his chest. He sighed- little brothers where so embarrassing._

_"Oh…" the twins simply said, seeming almost to deflate. Gloin just gave a roll of his eyes at Oin, who snorted, remembering how competitive he and his brother had been in their childhood. Competition between children is common in all races and it was a given when dealing particularly with Dwarven children that there would be plenty of rough-housing, fighting, with lots and lots of yelling (and that was when they were acting nice and on their best behavior)._

_"Any luck finding anything?" Gloin asked, and the twins shook their heads in the negative._

_"We looked but-" Gimli began._

_"-couldn't find anything." Nin finished._

_"That's alright, better luck next time" Their father told them, ruffling their hair._

_"What in Arda! Is taking you all so damned long to get your lazy arses back to camp!" Nei roared, causing the six Dwarves to jump as she stomped over to them. No one had noticed her storm over the hill from the direction of camp)._

_"Ow!" Daira yelped, getting a cuff on the ear, and Nin and Gimli gave matching yelps as they each got a whack on the bum from the dark copper-haired Dwarrow-dam._

_Dressed much like her husband, she wore a sleeveless red shirt and dark brown trousers, with boots and belt. Her hair was held away from her face in a long thick complicated braid, two braided forelocks hung before her gold-ringed ears (she had three graduated loops of gold on each ear)._

_"What was that for?" Daira grumbled, nursing his smarting ear._

_"That's for not coming sooner, when you are called." She scolded him, as she stood next to her husband._

_"But, Mother-" Gimli started, while rubbing his sore rear end._

_"Don't 'but' me, child."_

_"Nei, come now we were- Ow! What was that for?" Gloin demanded, glaring at his wife as he now nursed his own cuffed ear. Oin was now chuckling beside him, laughing at his older brother's indignation._

_"For lollygagging about, when I've had lunch ready and a guest waiting! Both just sitting around! I told you to get them, not to stand around and flap your lips!" She scolded her husband, hands on her hips daring him to say the other wise. Hearing chuckling to her right she turned to give her brother in-law a dark look, and Oin sobered immediately in the wake of her glare._

_"You want one too, Oin?" She asked, an eyebrow cocked. Oin quickly shook his head in the negative, holding his hands up in surrender. It was just then that little Minal finally reached the group, immediately going to her father._

_"Ah, there's my sprite!" Gloin chuckled , a smile splitting his face, his smarting ear forgotten._

_"Da! Da! Look what I found!" Minal shouted excitedly. Her clasped hands held up for Gloin's inspection. The little girl was literally jumping with excitement, and with a deep chuckle Gloin caught the child mid jump. The raven-haired girl gave a happy squeal as her father picked her up, tickling her with his mustache and beard while he gave a rumbling mock growl in her ear before giving her a peck on her rosy cheek._

_"Now then, what is this that you have found?" He asked the giggling girl in his arms, no doubt thinking she had found a interesting stone, or maybe even something of worth like a bit of quartz or lapis. Nei, her anger spent and her curiosity was sparked, stepped closer to see what the little girl had found._

_Minal, wanting her father to have a good look made sure to put her clasped hands right in front of Gloin's face before unclasping them._

_Gloin found himself face to scalely face with a dark green rock-lizard, that glared at him with its big yellow slited eyes._

_"His names, Master Thorin!" Minal chirped happily._

_"The resemblance is astounding!" Nei said, in false astonishment with a wry look in her eyes. She was barely able to keep a straight face) as she watched 'Master Thorin' puffed out his neck and began jerking his head up and down in challenge._

_"Nei," Gloin began to admonish, making the mistake of taking his eyes away from the agitated lizard. Seeing his chance for escape, Master Thorin made a leap for freedom into the nearest cover he could find._

_Gloin let out a surprised yelp, almost dropping the giggling Minal as the lizard leapt off the girl's out stretched hands and dived into Gloin's beard._

_With a deep laugh Nei stepped forward, plucking the little girl from her husband's grasp as he held the child out for her to take. While her three sons and brother in-law convulsed with laughter, little Minal gave another giggle, clapping her small hands as she watched Gloin squirm about making strange faces._

_"Da's, funny!"_

_"He can be," Nei chuckled. "Come Minal, lets go get lunch ready as 'Master Thorin' and your father get to know one another," she said to the three-year old on her hip. Her eyes sparkled with mirth as she watched Gloin digging franticly through his thick beard for the escaped 'Master Thorin'. He shot her a glare, but Nei just let out another laugh, giving him a wink before walking away with Minal back to camp._

_Oin finally managed to get himself under control enough to get up from the ground (where he had fallen in his fit of laughing) and help his older brother._

_The two continued to try and catch the agitated lizard until Oin let out curse of pain, yanking one of his hands back from Gloin's beard. Master Thorin was firmly attached to one of his thick fingers._

_"Look, Uncle Oin caught him!" Gimli cheered, as both he and Nin watched in fascination as Oin frantically tried to shake the fierce lizard off (rock-lizards have small, but very sharp teeth)._

_"I think it's the other way around!" Daira laughed._

_Now it was Gloin's turn to laugh at his younger brother's expense. Eventually 'Master Thorin' decided that he had enough of battling these strange creatures and let go. They watched the lizard (except the cursing Oin who was now nursing his wounded finger) land nimbly on the ground then scuttle away before pausing on top of a large rock a few feet away. He puffed himself up and gave another series of head jerks. Then with a flick of his tail 'Master Thorin' dived into the grass, disappearing from sight._

_"I think he just insulted us, Da" Daira laughed, wiping tears from his eyes._

_"That or stating his victory," Gloin laughed, before looking sideways with a smirk at his brother who was grumbling under his breath, still clutching his injured digit. "Master Thorin, was definitely the victor of this battle." He gave a another laugh as Oin shot him a glare._

_"Last time I help you, brother. You can just dig the next vicious beast out of your beard, by yourself!" Oin grumbled indignantly to his sibling._

_"Minal's' not going to like-" Nin started._

_"-that you lost her pet." Gimli finished, from where they stood side by side._

_"She'll get over it," Gloin said, as the five began to walk back to camp._

_"Easy for you to say. You're not the one she bit last time she got mad!" Daira grumbled, from where he walked flanked by Nin and Gimli._

_"Yah! Minal gets away with everything!" Gimli grumped, crossing his arms over his chest._

_"Just cause she's a girl! Its not fair!" Nin agreed, with a pout also with his arms crossed._

_"She's a female, its just the way things are," Oin said simply, as if that answered all, while looking back over his shoulder at the three children behind them._

_"Life is not fair my boys. We have our place and females have theirs, and its mostly above ours. So get used to it," Gloin said._

_They could now see their caravans wagons and the smoke from several fires rising into the air. As they neared camp they began to pick up the smell of cooking food and the strong sent of their guest. The smell of Hobbit-grown pipe weed (the best there is), fire powder, and the sharp smell of ozone, like after a lightning storm._

_"I see the old gray fart is back," Daira grumbled, after taking a long sniff of the air._

_"Gandalf!" Gimli and Nin yelled happily before racing ahead. Soon they had reached camp, dodging other Dwarves of their caravan who were talking or having lunch around their own fire with their own families. The two ran to the small fire in front of their red roofed wagon where their mother, sister, and a tall gray robed figure stood with a large pointy hat and staff._

_"Gandalf!" Gimli and Nin shouted again, nearly toppling the Wizard as they each hugged a leg._

_"Woa! Goodness, you two are getting strong!" He said while recovering his balance as the twins stepped back, still grinning happily up at him._

_Gandalf gave a soft chuckle while straightening his hat. "It is good to see the both of you, too." He said smiling, giving each of them a fond pat. It was then the Gloin and the others arrived._

_"And as for some…" Gandalf continued, now looking at someone over the twin's heads with an eyebrow raised in irritation._

_"Some would do well to watch what they say within a Wizard's hearing. Isn't that right… young Daira?" Gandalf said as he gave the young raven-haired Dwarf a withering glare._

_Daira winced. "Sorry, Gandalf," he apologized, giving the Wizard a bow. Gandalf gave an approving nod at the apology, before snorting with amusement._

_"Old gray fart, indeed!" The Wizard chuckled to himself._

_"Da? Where's Master Thorin?" Minal asked, noticing that her father was empty-handed._

_"Uh…sorry, sprite, but…uh-"_

_"Master Thorin had to go home; his mate was calling. So he's out rounding up the hatchlings for their meal of insects," Nei said, coming to her husbands rescue as she prepared their meal._

_Gandalf's big bushy eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise at hearing this._

_"Hatchlings? I was not aware that Thorin had married, sired offspring or had come to dine on such…exotic fare." he said. Nei looked up at him in surprise then threw back her head with a deep rolling laugh, Gloin and Oin joining in._

_Gimli, who was still standing by the Gray Wizard (who was still much taller then the little boy even though he was now sitting down) noticed Gandalf's still quizzical expression._

_"Not Thorin Oakenshield. Minal, found a stupid lizard and named him Thorin." Gandalf turned his attention to Gimli as the little boy explained, hearing this the Wizard gave a hearty laugh of his own._

_Minal, however, did not apparently like hearing the news of her pet's departure, family business or no and was on the verge of pouting. She crossed her arms over her small chest with a scowl on her face that looked remarkably just like Gloin's when he was particularly irritated. Seeing this Gloin (getting his chuckling under control) walked over, knelt down, and gave the little girl a consoling rub on the back._

_"You don't want Master Thorin getting into trouble with his mate, do you? I hear she can be quite vicious when angry," He said, sending a rueful look over Minal's head to his wife, who was now rolling balls of dough. Nei looked up, and catching her husband's smirking gaze she bared and snapped her white teeth at him, though her dark eyes flashed with amusement rather than anger. Gloin only wiggled an eyebrow, signaling that he found her fierceness rather…stimulating, and Nei gave a promising wink before going back to preparing their meal._

_With Minal now placated Gloin went about preparing the coffee with Daira's help, while Gimli and Nin bombarded Gandalf with questions, which Gandalf ether answered or laughed at. Finally when everything was prepared and ready, Nei looked up._

_"Daria, Gimli, Nin, Minal- Minal!" The little girl, who had up until now gone unnoticed, jumped guiltily caught in the act of preparing to swing Gandalf's staff at Nin (who like Gimli, was paying attention to something Gandalf was telling them). Dwarf children even at such a young age are much stronger than children of other races, so while the staff was incredibly large and unwieldy in her hands, she did not have much trouble lifting it._

_"You put that down this instant! You glare at me like that again, child, I'll give you something to glare about. Now go wash up, the lot of you!" Nei said as the children quickly did as they were told. They crowded around a large bucket specifically for that purpose, by the stairs of their wagon._

_"How is it that you always manage to show up around meal time?" Oin asked the Istari as he sat down across the fire from the wizard._

_"Tis an ancient Wizarding secret" Gandalf deadpanned while peering back at the younger son of Groin from under the brim of his large hat. All the adults let out a bark of laughter at that, as Nei started frying up the flat bread on the griddle over the fire._

_She had made a simple flour-based dough that would cook into a type of thin flat bread. A large pot also hung over the fire simmering, containing tenderized strips of beef, tender tubers, and carrots soaking in a spicy sauce. When the bread was ready, she would spoon some of the meat and vegetables into it and wrap it up. Called 'meat wraps' or more often 'wraps" they were a common yet popular recipe with Dwarves, and apparently Wizards were quite fond of them as well._

_"Coffee or water, Gandalf?" Nei asked, motioning to the pitcher of river water and the steaming kettle of coffee, as Gloin passed out simple tin cups. The children, done washing up, had come back and had sat down by the fire. They got water to drink- when they where older they could get coffee, but for now it was water._

_"Coffee, thank you," Gandalf answered, holding his cup as Gloin poured him some. Gandalf didn't bother asking for sugar or cream, for he knew there was none anyway._

_Nei handed the wraps to her husband when she was done and Gloin passed them out, starting with the Wizard. Soon everyone had one and they ate._

_"Gimli, slow down! Its not going anywhere. I swear you get more food in your beard, than in your mouth," Nei scolded. Gimli looked up from his half-devoured wrap, sauce and bits of food on his chin, before wiping his mouth with the back of his arm._

_BUUURP!_

_"Nin! Manners!"_

_"Let the boy be, Nei. Better out than in, I say." Gloin said, between mouthfuls._

_Nei gave a huff, grumbling something under her breath before taking another sip of her coffee. The meal continued, Nei eventually getting up when baby Mano woke up and started crying from where he had been sleeping in the wagon. She came back a few moments later, sitting back down in her spot by her husband with the crying baby in her arms._

_Gloin and Oin were asking Gandalf about news and points of interest the Wizard had come across on his wanderings. Soon they had all finished their meal, their bellies full as they sipped at their coffee or water, Mano had finally stopped crying and was now suckling contentedly at his mother's breast. His big gray eyes closed in contentment, his little hands clutching the material of Nei's red shirt while his mother occasionally stroked her calloused fingers through his fine black hair._

_"Gandalf! Tell us a story!" Minal demanded seeing that every one was now done with their meal (except Mono)._

_"Yes! A story!" Gimli agreed enthusiastically, looking up from where he had been poking idly at the fire with a stick._

_"Yes! Tell us about the Twin Warriors, Elladan and Elrohir! And their adventures orc hunting!" Nin said._

_"No, we heard that story last time! Tell us a different one, Gandalf!" Daira said, while picking something out of his teeth._

_Nei gave a laugh from where she sat next to Gloin, baby Mano still suckling contentedly at her breast. Finally she turned to explain to the Wizard (who had a mildly surprised look on his face), "Since you told them that story, its all Nin and Gimli seem to play. Running wild, playing Elladan and Elrohir."_

_The Grey Wizard chuckled, his eye positively twinkling with some unknown secret at hearing that, and a gray bushy eyebrow rose as he turned to look at the two young copper-haired twins._

_"Liked that story now, did you?" He watched them both give enthusiastic nods, their big brown eyes aglow with barely suppressed excitement._

_"Yes!" Both Gimli and Nin said at the same time._

_"They're like us! I'm Elladan! And Gimli's Elrohir!" Nin told the Wizard, Gimli nodding his head in agreement with his twin._

_"That right! One day me and Nin will go orc hunting too!" Gimli added._

_With their meal over, and little Mano burped and contentedly dozing again Nei had gotten up, disappearing into their wagon to put the baby down for his nap, appearing a few minutes later to sit back down. Now that the baby was asleep and safely tucked away, the adults (including Gandalf) brought out their pipes. And soon the air was filled with the smell of pipeweed, dancing wisps of smoke and the occasional smoke ring._

_"Elladan and Elrohir… I have never heard of any stories about Twin Dwarven warriors wandering the wilds, hunting orcs. I'm telling you, those are the strangest Dwarf names I have ever heard!" Oin muttered under his breath so only Gloin could hear, who gave a nod in agreement before snorting smoke out of his nose._

_"They don't sound Dwarven at all. Knowing Gandalf, I wouldn't be surprised if they were not even Dwarves!" Gloin grumbled sourly._

_"Hmmm. Lets see…something-" Gandalf was thinking aloud, blowing a large smoke ring before his thoughts were interrupted._

_"New!" Daira interjected, glaring at his two brothers who where both going to yell something just then._

_"With battles!" Gimli yelled after, from his seat between Daira and Nin._

_"Yah!" Nin agreed._

_"And lots of Heroes!" Minal added._

_The three adults still puffing contentedly at their pipes, were also listening with half an ear while they began idly discussing something amongst themselves._

_"As I was saying." Gandalf continued, pausing to see if anyone would interrupt him again before continuing. "A new story with battles and heroes. Hmmm, lets see…" He blew another smoke ring, only this one was green, as he searched his memory._

_"Ah, Yes! How about a story of 'The Last Alliance'?" Seeing that he had his audience's complete attention, Gandalf began his tale._

_"You all remember the story of the One Ring?" He asked them, and all four of them gave nods of their heads._

_"Seven for the Dwarf-lords, in their Halls of stone! Nine for the Men, Doomed to die! Three for the Elf-lords. And One Ring to rule them all!" The four chorused._

_Gadalf gave a nod of his head. "Correct, not quite in the right order…but correct, nevertheless. Now then," he began, making a sound in the back of his throat as if to clear it._

_"A terrible darkness created by the Dark Lord Sauron was spreading across the land, threatening to take over all the lands of the free-peoples of Middle-earth, and in fact many had already fallen beneath his heel. With an army of darkness and The Ring of power at his command, his victory seemed assured._

_"But there were some who resisted! A Last Alliance of Men and Elves was all that stood-" But Gandalf found himself interrupted once again._

_"And Dwarves," Nei said, looking up with a glare from across the fire where she sat puffing on her pipe._

_"My ancestors did not give up their lives in that battle and others, just to be forgotten, Wizard. Tell the story true and not through the lofty eyes of Elves. Or tell it not at all," She told him, a note of warning in her deep voice. Wizard though Gandalf may be, he was still a guest at her fire and it was she who ruled here._

_"Forgive my lapse, Lady Nei," Gandalf apologized, with a slight bow of his head. Then with a gruff cough he continued the story._

_"As I was saying. A Last Alliance of Men, Elves, and Dwarves were all that stood in the way of …" Gandalf continued his story, but Gimli was no longer listening. Instead his attention was on his mother, if Nei had a tail it would have been lashing from side to side. But Gloin was murmuring something into her ear, and what ever his father said seemed to work for after a few moments she gave a smoke-filled huff and relaxed, leaning against him as he wrapped a arm around her._

_Gimli didn't know why but his mother always got very agitated when there was talk of Elves. He knew of his mother's disliked of Men, letting Gloin or Oin take care of most of their dealings with them. The only Men she would deal and freely talk with were the strange Men called 'Rangers'. But he didn't know why she would only deal them, or why she got so agitated about Elves; he decided to ask his father why when the chance arose._

_The day wore on- Gandalf's entertaining story was long over, Nei's daily lessons and axe practice were over and dinner had come and gone. Now the stars were out and Minal was sleeping peacefully in the wagon with Mano. His mother, Lady Frost, Gandalf, Old Althiof, and Thekk sat by the fire discussing something, an occasional laugh going up from the group. Daira, and his uncle, with some of the other Dwarves of their caravan were playing 'Chops' (a game similar to darts, only instead of darts they used hatchets) on the other side of camp, using a large tree with a bulls eye carved crudely into the trunk of the tree. Others went about their own business._

_Gimli watched it all from where he and Nin lay on their stomachs under their family's wagon. He decided that now was the time to go find his father, and he turned to tell Nin but saw that his twin was fast asleep._

_"Nin, Nin!" He called, shaking his brother's shoulder. But Nin only mumbled something in his sleep and shifted._

_"Nin! Come on!" He yelled giving his twin another shaking, Nin only grumbled and pushed him away._

_"Mmmrrr, leave me 'lone," he mumbled irritably, curling into a ball._

_"Fine, be a lazy lump!" Gimli pouted- he could never understand how his twin could happily take a nap anywhere or at anytime. With a final glare of annoyance at his sleeping brother, Gimli decided to go ahead and look for his father anyway. He scrambled out from under the wagon and left, leaving his blissfully sleeping twin behind._

_After some searching he finally found his father lying on his back under a wagon, only his legs sticking out, while he was fixing something on the underside of Lady Frost's wagon._

_"Da?" the little boy asked, squatting down to peer under the wagon at his father._

_"Aye?" Gloin answered, as he continued to work, hammering a nail. A small lit candle on the ground next to him provided light as he patched up a hole on the underside of the wagon._

_"Da, why does Mother get so mad? Whenever anyone talks of Eves or… why she don't like Men?" he asked._

_Gloin stopped working, cocking his head up to look at the curious child peering under the wagon at him. He gave a sigh before putting down his tools and scooted out from under the wagon. He tucked a few escaped strands of his dark-hair back into the brown stocking-cap as he sat up, turning his full attention the copper-haired child now sitting next to him, the wagon at their backs._

_"Why? Well, no self-respecting Dwarf associates with Elves if he can help it. They maybe fair but they're arrogant, flighty, and their pretty faces hide cold, cruel hearts. Most Men are weak, greedy, and lazy-not to be trusted. They will stab you in the back if there's gold or jewels to be had. Not all are so, but most._

_"As for your Mother… Everyone has their own reasons to dislike others, be they Dwarves, Elves, Men or even Hobbits. It is all up to that person._

_"But I think your Mother dislikes Elves and Men mostly because of the War. The War where your Mother got her scar," Gloin told the little boy, tracing a line over his left eye with a finger. "After the battle, there were so many dead; we could not properly bury them all. We knew the orcs would dig them up and the other scavengers would feast on them. So we burned them._

_"Seeing the mountains upon mountains of burning bodies of our people…the light from all those fires turned night into day as ash fell and covered the ground like snow. Ash- that was all that remained of over half our people. The sight of it turned your Mothers heart bitter towards Elves and Men._

_"If Only they had come to our aid! We might have been able to storm the Gates and root out the very heart of the Orcs! Purge Middle-earth of their foul breed and take back Khazad-dum! Dwarves have fought in every war against the darkness, asked or not. But the one time we could have used them to help exterminate the goblins and orcs once and for all, did Men or Elves come to our aid? No! They sat back and watched! For six years they watched as over half of our people where decimated! Nothing…nothing but ashes scattered in the wind," Gloin finished quietly, his brown-eyed gaze turned inward as he remembered his own experiences during that last terrible battle._

_Finally looked down at his son again who had been sitting quietly listening beside him._

_"Does that answer your question?" He asked, and Gimli gave a solemn nod of his head. They sat quietly together for a while when Gimli gave a sudden yelp, breaking the silence._

_"Ow!"_

_"What's the matter?" Gloin asked, tuning his head to give Gimli a curious look ._

_"I don't know, somethins' in me eye-ow!" Gimli yelped again, scrubbing at his left eye with one hand._

_"Here, let me have a look," his father said, shifting to face his son so he could look into the child's eye._

_"I- ow! It hurts- ahh!" The copper-haired child cried out, pitching forward clutching his eye._

Hold him down! 

___"Gimli, what's wrong ,boy?" he could hear the concern in his father's deep voice, feel his father's broad hands trying to lift his head and pry his hands away from his face._

___"I- ahhh! I …I don't know!" He cried curling into a tighter ball as the pain intensified._

Tighten that rope! He's fighting! ____

"Da, the-the pain! Ahhhhh!"

"Gimli! Boy wha…wrong! …tell…Gimli.." He could hear his fathers voice, but it seemed to be getting farther and farther away. And everything began to spin and distort.

-------------------------------------

Suddenly Gimli found himself plunged into a dark blurry world of pain and confusion. Strange shadowed shapes moved around him as warped sounds assaulted his ears; he felt like his whole body was burning up. 

He couldn't get up- he became aware of bindings of some sort that were holding him down and hands, he could feel strange hands holding him down as well. He began to panic. Everything hurt, he could hardly breathe, something was sitting on his chest! Trying to suffocate him! Pain, like molten a dagger stabbed at his eye. He tried to get away from it but couldn't- he couldn't get away! He tried to move his arms to claw at his face and try and fight off his tormenters, but the bindings and hands kept his arms down._______ What's going on? The Elves? No the…the orcs! The orcs and goblins must have found him! Going to finish him off- they were torturing him! Have to get away!_

"Hold him down!"

Gimli could feel one of his torturers trying to hold his face still, no doubt trying to rip out his eye._____No! Stop!_

"I'm trying!" a voice grunted. "But for something half-dead, huff he's awful strong!"

"Surya, for the love of- just sit on his arm! Istan, hand me that blue bottle."

_______ Voices? _He could hear strange distant voices around him as he continued to try and struggle against the creatures holding him down, but the voices were muffled as if he was hearing them from underwater._____Unhand me! Let me go!_

"Here, Grandmother!"

"Good! Now help your sister hold his legs."

"Hope those ropes hold."

"As do I- grunt Curse you! Stop fighting! We are trying to help you, lad! Damned fever has him fighting shadows."

_______No! No, leave me alone! _Gimli continued to struggle in his fevered state, not understanding what was happening.

"Oomph! If this one if half-dead, I'd hate to see what a healthy one could do!"

"Get a good grip now and brace your selves. This will not be pleasant!"

The pain before was nothing compared to the sudden white-hot agony that now seemed to sear through his very being. Gimli in all his life had never known such pain; all thought fled as a horrible tortured scream suddenly filled his ears. Then the darkness came rushing back, plunging him into the safety of unconsciousness.

_____Yes, I'm still evil._

_____Some comments from the weird chick writing this fic._

______

I do not condone racism or bigotry of any type! Even in fantasy worlds, be they Elf or Dwarf.

There were parts in this fic I used purposely to illustrate just how ugly and wrong bigotry is, in any form! Be it from hate or ignorance… There is no excuse!

To all those people out there (including Peter Jackson) that think Gimli is fat, ugly, stupid, clumsy. Pick up the Books and find me anywhere in it, that J.R.R. Tolkien describes Gimli as fat, ugly and or stupid. If you can find it and show me the proof; I'll draw you a pic of your choice.

And because some people asked me what I thought of the movies…

My thoughts on the movies: Like most of us here I loved the movies too and I even liked Gimli. Very entertaining and I loved the special effects (very cool) But that is not Gimli from the books! PJ has purposefully butchered Gimli's characters 'worse' then he did with Faramir. And I find it a bit sad that so many people buy into this old, fat, ranting, clumsy 'butchered version' in the movie. Its quite obvious that PJ does not like Dwarves. He got rid of almost all of Gimli's lines, and put the whole friendship between him and Legolas on the back burner so he could push this 'Elf and Man' friendship. Worst of all we get this completely one-sided 'negative' view of Dwarves. There are two sides to every story but PJ didn't want to show that. The Elves are just as bad in their own ignorance and bigotry as the Dwarves are! But no, can't have people thinking that maybe Elves aren't perfect or that Dwarves aren't all greedy and ranting all the time! What makes the whole friendship between Gimli and Legolas so special and important is that they both push aside all that they've been taught and accept one another. J.R.R. Tolkien wanted to show that if these two people can overcome their differences and prejudices, and see the other as an equal, to see beyond the stereotype. If they can do it, a Dwarf and a Elf, can't we?

The Gimli of the books is brave and courageous, Elrond himself picked him at the council in Rivendell. Gimli is a young Dwarf in his prime, in great shape, never had any problems keeping up and fighting along side the others (not like in the movie), he had a sharp mind and silver tongue and charmed Galadriel with his words and manner (not bumbling about stupidly). He also was fairly quiet during the journey, not constantly grumbling (except occasionally like when they where trying to get over the mountains, but can you blame him) and while he didn't like Legolas or Elves in general, he wasn't constantly ranting about them ether. He was not yelling "Never trust an Elf!", once again another thing PJ just had to throw in there. Tolkien never gave us a good description of Gimli or anyone else for that matter (except Gandalf and Frodo), hell, people can't even agree if Legolas has blond or dark hair! So for all we know Gimli might have been a major hunk and Aragorn could have been ugly. We just don't know! Tolkien left it up to our own imaginations. So have an open mind, people!

"Peace, Love, and naked Elves !"

(falls off soapbox)

1.) In "The Hobbit" after Bilbo and company make it to the Mountain, we learn (thanks to Balin) that Dwarves can talk to Ravens and can apparently understand the language of Crows as well.

(2.) Mannish names: Dwarves keep their 'true' names a secret, so they use 'mannish' names when above ground.

(3.) Gimli and his mother where watching a Meteor shower.

(4.) Geodes: A rock, usually globular, having a cavity line with crystals.


	6. The House of the Red Blossoms

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 5)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for strong language, violence, sexuality and disturbing imagery)

Warnings: Angst, deals with racial bigotry, violence, and violence against Women

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few original characters, Gimli, Gandalf, and other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli while he and Thorin's company were away on their quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli? Then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is a Book-version, Not movie-version.

More notes: A huge thank you, to everyone that has emailed me, prodding me occasionally, and left reviews ^_^ ! You're the reason I'm going to continue and finish this, thank you all very much! I came very near to scrapping this fic. 

A gigantic thank you to Little My, for beta reading this monster! Your my hero, girly ~_^! 

Gimli, finally gets clean and even gets a shirt! Ok, enough of my blabbing, on with the fic! 

~~~

"He beat his fists against the post, and still he swore, he saw the ghost." (writer unknown)

~~~

__

Consciousness decided to slowly begin to seep back. He fought it off as long as he could, not wanting to leave the peace and safety of the dark embrace of sleep.

The first thing he became aware of was a rocking motion, followed by the creaking sound of wooden wheels. He lay there quietly, simply listening to his surroundings. 

By the sounds of it, he was no longer sitting at the side of the road. He was in a wagon of some kind; having grown up in one he knew by heart the way they sounded- the way the wood underneath would creak and vibrate with the road, the way the wheels would screech and groan. 

Slowly Gimli managed to force open an eye, giving a few blinks until the momentary disorientation had passed, and he found himself staring up at the rough wooden beams of a wagon's ceiling. Various herbs, bunches of exotic plants, and what looked to be dried animal parts (some unidentifiable) hung from the ceiling, swaying along with the motion of the wagon. Light poured in from two windows on either side of the wagon, illuminating various bundles, baskets, pots and jars, as well as several large chests stacked about the wagon's wooden floor. 

He was lying on his back on some kind of coarse blanket, and he could feel the wrapped compression of bandages over his left eye, as well as around his neck, chest and shoulders. There was a dull ache in his left arm, and when he tried to move it he found it completely immobile. Panic overwhelmed him before he realized that it was immobile because it was heavily wrapped in bandages and in some kind of splint. He felt an immediate surge of relief when he found he could freely move all his fingers. His other arm lay partially resting on his stomach, and he could feel that there was a light wool blanket covering him

He continued to stare blankly up at the wagon's ceiling, realizing that he felt almost disappointed that he was still alive. He felt horrible empty, like there was a hollow in his chest. He really should be dead.

_Did I survive? _

He continued to stare up, watching the various bundles of herbs and animal remains sway with the motion of the wagon.

__

No, he decided. He was not the same Dwarf that he once was, so in a way Gimli son of Gloin had died alone on the side of that road. Would any mourn him? His father and Uncle-- no they were probably dead too. No one was alive to mourn him… not even himself.

_What_…_Where am I? _The last thing he could remember was waking up in the quarry with that stupid crow, then the forest…reaching the road and then…the Elves. The image of the blond Elf's beautiful and sneering face flashed before his eyes and he felt an instant flash of hot anger. _Cursed Elves! Next time I see one of their kind it will be to soon! _he thought bitterly. 

But the anger soon faded in the wake of his more pressing feelings of confusion. How did he come to be in his new surroundings? Who had saved him, tended his wounds? Gimli was no healer, but he knew his wounds should have been fatal-- how was it that he was still alive? Surely the Elves hadn't…

__

It was then that he became aware of someone humming. Listening closer, he could now hear it to be the soft, happy, high voice of a small child. It seemed to be coming from nearby, to his right. 

Slowly he turned his head in the direction of the humming and was greeted with a shock.

_Minal?_

He watched the vision of his little sister sitting next to him as she played with a cloth-stitched doll, humming happily to herself as she made the floppy stuffed doll dance to the accompaniment to her tune.

_But this can't be real_… Minal was older-- nineteen winters when she…she died. He closed his eye against the memory, against the image of his little sister's gaunt body lying peacefully amongst all the pretty blue flowers. He had been the one to find her…

_No! This can't be real._

With some difficulty he managed to push the memory back-- he had no time for memories, for the past. When next he opened his eye, the image of his little sister was gone and he found himself gazing at a little human girl, about four years of age he guessed. He could now see that this human child was also larger then Minal had been, when that age. Where once he had seen Minal's thick raven-black hair, there was now fine mousy brown, and instead of Minal's big dark-brown eyes, there were now sky-blue ones.

Even though he knew the image from before to be false, he could not deny the painful twinge in his heart. It would have been wonderful if it really had been Minal. 

It was then that those big blue eyes looked up from the doll, and the happy humming stopped as the little girl took notice that she was being watched. She turned her head and looked at him, giving a blink of those big eyes. 

Silently, they both studied one another for a long moment before a big smile split her round freckled face. There was a gap where one of her front teeth should have been; she had apparently lost one of her baby teeth early.

"You awake!" she chirped happily, with a noticeable lisp to her words.

"Wh...where?" Gimli managed to croak- it was then he noticed how terribly sore and parched his throat was.

"You're with us, Grand-mama and Mama be making you better. I'm helping too! I'm Ayla! And me and Nezry been keeping you safe! Just like Mama said."

"N…Nezry?" Gimli croaked in mild confusion- he didn't see or smell anyone else in the wagon besides the child.

"Yes, Nezry. See! Meet Nezry!" she said proudly, presenting the floppy doll with its red yarn smile and two small blue shell button eyes. "Nezry, meet Mister uh…um, mister…"

"Gimli… Gimli, son of Gloin."

"Nezry, meet Mister Gimy! Gimy, son of Goin!" she said gaily, making one of the doll's arms wave at him. Gimli couldn't help it as an amused smile tugged at one of the corners of his mouth, at the little girl's lispy pronunciation of his name. It was nice to be around such simple cheerfulness.

There came a noise from the round door of the wagon, and they both looked (Gimli moving only his eye) to see a young boy scrambling inside, before closing the door behind him. Gimli guessed him to be about twelve years of age, though it was hard to tell with human children, and he had brown hair like Ayla's, only cut short. He wore a simple green tunic, gray trousers and simple brown shoes, and like his younger sister he too had blue eyes and a light dusting of freckles on his round face.

"Oh! He's awake! Mama will be pleased!" he said with a big smile coming over to sit next to his little sister. She glared at him, her small lips in a pout, before turning her attention back to the bandaged Dwarf.

"That's Istan, he's dumb!" she told him with complete conviction.

"Am not! You little mud bug!" he said, glaring at his little sister.

"Are so!" she chirped, sticking her tongue out at him before hiding her face in her doll. "Not a mug bug… you're a dumb," she mumbled from behind her doll.

"I'm gonna take that stupid doll and toss it out the wagon!" Istan threatened, making a grab for the doll, but Gimli could see it was an empty threat, to scare her. He remembered employing similar tactics with his own little sister, especially when Minal was being particularly bratty. Ayla gave a high-pitched squeal, crushing the poor cloth-stitched doll against herself.

"No!!! Leave Nezry alone!" she cried. 

"You gonna stop bein' a pest?" he asked, glaring at her suspiciously. She peeked out from behind 'Nezry' and gave a small nod, but as soon as Istan turned his attention away, she lowered the doll and stuck her tongue out at him again.

"Hi, I'm Istan! That's my little sister Ayla-- she's a real pain. Wow! We thought you were just dead when we found you! Mama and Grandmother said you near died after she sewed you up that first night. You're real strong! We had ta tie ya down and everything, when the fever dreams took you! Oh! Your axes are in the other wagon, Grandmother be watchin' them," the boy explained, amazingly, in seeming one breath.

"We saw all the orc blood! Bet you killed lots of em! The battle! It-- must have been something!" he said in a rush, his blue eyes sparkling with barely suppressed excitement as he looked expectantly at the silent Dwarf.

Gimli just continued to stare blankly at the excited boy, who still waited for him to say something. But Gimli's thoughts where suddenly full of screams and shrieks, of flying hot black blood, maggots, the stench of rotting flesh. Of hungry, bulbous, slitted sickly green eyes, of Nidi's dead honey-brown eyes, of roaring battle cries, swirling stars and a red sickle moon. The dying light in a pair of amber eyes, his axe slamming into his best friend's body, red blood, fire and stars… 

"S-something…like that," he managed to whisper, before a sudden racking coughing fit took him. The boy waited until the fit had passed, before silently handing him a rag so Gimli could wipe his hand of the thick black mucus he'd coughed up from his lungs. Istan then got up and picked up a basket from one corner of the wagon, holding it out for Gimli to toss the rag in, before putting it back.

It was then they felt the wagon give a lurch and come to a jarring stop, soon followed by muffled swearing and talking, then the crunching sound of footsteps. The three in the wagon turned their attention to the door as it opened and an old broad-hipped Woman climbed in muttering about something under her breath. 

"That's Grand-mama," Ayla explained with a big smile.

The old Woman's face was heavily wrinkled, especially around her thin mouth and the corners of her surprising bright-blue eyes, eyes that looked like they had seen a lot of things in their time. Her long steel-gray hair was tied away from her aged face in a series of simple braids, carved bits of blue shell earrings hung from her small ears, and she wore the traveling dress of a simple peasant. She looked like any other old human Woman he had seen, except, that she had strange blue runes and patterns tattooed on her hands and even parts of her face. The tattoos looked like they continued down the body as well, though he couldn't see with her brown clothes in the way. Tattoos where nothing strange to Gimli, in fact they were quite common with Dwarves, but it was unusual to see any of the other races having them, and in even more so on a human female.

"Well… I see our patient has finally decided to join the land of the living," she said in a rough gravelly voice, as she stood in the doorway, looking at the three. "Ayla, Istan, why don't you go outside and help your mother set up camp," she told the two children.

"Can I stay, Grandmother? Please?" the boy begged.

"Oh, forgive me! I must have made myself unclear. GO!" she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument as she pointed at the door. With a disappointed groan, Istan got up and trudged out the door. Little Ayla paused in the doorway before turning to give Gimli a wave goodbye.

"Bye bye, Mister Gimy!" she said chirped before disappearing out the door, which the old Woman closed behind the child.

"Well now, I'm sure my two grandchildren have been keeping you entertained," she said, coming over to stand where Istan and Ayla had been sitting. Gimli just looked up at her.

"Let me be making things clear for ya, lad," she explained, while towering over him 

"You're more worth to me dead then alive. So if ya keep your trap shut and do what you're told… You just might walk out of 'ere in one piece. Understand?" she demanded. To Gimli she seemed to suddenly grow very tall and intimidating as she stood over him, hands on her broad hips as she gave him a hard look, waiting for his answer…

~~~

A large smoke ring floated serenely in the crisp air as a small smoke horse galloped through it, before both the ring and the horse dissipated into nothingness. Gandalf took another long drag from his pipe and calmly waited for the Dwarf to continue, watching the shadows lengthen as the late afternoon sun started its early descent into the west. 

In the distance he could see a large murder of crows circling about near the foot of the Mountain; the Wizard knew they probably circled the camp of Elves and Lake Men, in eager anticipation of the battle to come. The Lonely Mountain itself stood proudly in the afternoon light- Gandalf knew that Gimli's father and uncle, along with the rest of Thorin's company, were probably busily trying to fortify the Mountain as best they could. 

He glanced at the young brooding Dwarf out of the corner of his eye, and gave a soft snort of amusement; Gloin would throw a complete fit if he knew of Gimli's being here. Gandalf had no doubt that if he knew, Gloin would march out of the Mountain, storm right through both the armies of the Wood Elves and Lake Men to get to here, then box his son's ears.

Long moments continued to pass by, and still the young Dwarf remained silent, gazing into the hissing and popping flames of their fire. Finally, after blowing his sixth smoke ring and still hearing nothing but silence, Gandalf turned his storm gray eyes expectantly to the Dwarf.

"Gimli?" he asked, both in question and in urging for the Dwarf to continue. One did not have to be a Wizard to know that this dark tale was far from over.

"Forgive me, Gandalf. But I can tell you no more. I gave my word to the Lady Razel and the Lady Raya that I would tell no one of what happened when I was with their company," Gimli said, his voice apologetic as Gandalf watched the Dwarf shift uncomfortably under his piercing gaze. 

"I can tell you that I should have died on the side of that road… but by whatever herbs or sorcery, they healed me. Somehow, within only one half cycle of the moon, my body, my arm… my eye, they had healed completely. See? Not even a scar," he said quietly, turning to face the Wizard while gesturing to the left side of his face. 

"I should be blind in this eye, have a scar…like Mother's," he said quietly, more to himself than to Gandalf. Unconsciously he run his callused fingers over his left eye as if feeling for a wound that was not there, before letting his hand drop back on to his pulled up knees. 

"They purposefully left these scars- said that they would act as a reminder. As if I could forget!" he snorted with a note of bitterness in his voice, motioning to the scars that were visible on his arms and shoulders.

Gandalf opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, seeing the futility of it. Once a Dwarf gives his word few things, aside from torture or threat to family, could break it. Still though, Gandalf found himself terribly curious about this 'Lady Razel'. If what Gimli said was true, and he had no reason to doubt him, this strange healer and her family must be practitioners of some type of magic (1.). 

"Now I am forever in their debt," Gimli continued, and bitterness was again evident in his tone. 

Gandalf noticed this with some surprise, for Gimli's words were spoken not in seeming gratitude but more in resignation. It became obvious now to the Wizard that whoever these strange benefactors of Gimli's were, they had demanded a payment of some sort for their incredible healing. What that price had been was anyone's guess, but he intended to find out (if not now, then definitely later). The Wizard sat quietly, his gaze turned inward while he thoughtfully stroked his long gray beard, listening as Gimli reluctantly once again continued his story. 

"I found out later from the Lady Raya that we had passed Telgor, many days before I had finally awoken. I decided that there was really nothing in Telgor for me… not anymore, so I traveled with them for a time, until they reached where the road splits to the north road and the town of Ocendade. It was there we parted company…"

~~~

Gimli held up a hand in farewell, watching four sets of hands wave back as the two oxen-pulled wagons moved away down the road, before he turned and began walking the other way. His pace was unhurried as he walked down the dirt road, his thoughts turned inward. 

He wore a simple, thin, sleeveless, buff-colored shirt that his healers had been able to find amongst their stores of old clothes. The Lady Raya had also mended and washed his ripped trousers, which were tucked into his boots. His thick weapons belt with the comforting weight of his three axes hung about his hips, and his long clean copper colored hair was tied back into a loose ponytail that hung down his back.

He had decided that he would go to Ocendade, where Ursla lived. Ursla was the elder sister of both Shala and Myia; she worked at a brothel by the name of 'The House of the Red Blossoms' in Ocendade. He decided that he owed it to Shala to tell Ursla what had befallen her younger sister and her family, as well as all the others of Black Hollow.

The well-trodden road continued to meander through the pleasant forest (though Gimli thought it just like any other forest he had seen) before the trees receded and the open fields and hills of various farms could be seen. In the distance, Gimli could now see the smoke from many chimneys rising in the air from the large town, that in all rights could have been a small city by its sheer size. 

The sun was shining high in a blue sky full of puffy clouds, and a gentle breeze tugged playfully at his hair and short beard as he continued his journey. Gimli glanced up irritably, the glare causing him to squint, before giving a snort of annoyance. It was a far too cheerful day in his opinion, the sunshine doing nothing for his dark mood or the constant ache in his heart. 

His back and left arm were still a little sore, but thankfully not really painful. As he rotated and flexed his left arm, he thought of the incredible healing that Lady Razel and Lady Raya had done. Looking at him now, except for being a little pale, underweight and a bit wrung out, one would never have thought he had been at Mandos's door only but one cycle of the moon ago. 

A frown marred his face as a memory of something Lady Razel had said and done came back to him then.

"_I have given you back your eye and your life, lad. You now owe me and my family a life debt. One day you may be called upon to fulfill that debt… And if you should decide to not honor your debt…remember this. I can take back what was given," the old woman warned, her voice holding an ominous promise. _

He nodded his head at her words but remained silent, watching with a strange feeling of dread as her thin withered fingers with their intricate tattoos calmly put a small braided lock of his hair into a small, round silver locket. It was covered in strange red runes in a language that Gimli had never seen before. Perhaps it was a shift of the light or maybe it was just his imagination, but when the locket was closed it looked almost as if the red runes flared momentarily with an inner light.

Gimli unconsciously rubbed his left eye before giving a shake of his head, pushing the memory away, locking it in a far corner of his mind. 

__

Nothing to be done about it now, besides she is old… human; _with luck she'll be long dead before she finds use of my debt_, he thought to himself(2). It was a strange thing to feel both gratitude and apprehension towards someone, for he genuinely liked the Lady Razel and her family. But he also knew that few kindnesses are done for free, and for her healing of him, Gimli found himself forever indebted….

It was then that the sickeningly sweet odor of rotting flesh reached his sensitive nose and immediately he was on guard. Without even realizing that he had taken them out, he found his two axes in hand and had dropped into a defensive position. The smell instantly conjured memories of the horror back at the Hollow, of the rotting and mutilated corpses, the red light of a setting sun bathing everything in bloody crimson. 

His dark eyes scanned the area, looking for any sign of danger, all the while his heart pounding in his chest. To his right- an open field of golden barley, rippling like water in the gentle breeze. To his left was a large wood fence that ran a good distance along the side of the road, enclosing a rolling green pasture where some horned sheep grazed.

That's when he spotted the cause of the smell- the decapitated head of a warg was hanging from one of the large wooden fence posts, some twelve feet away from him. Dropping his defensive stance he let out a rough sigh of relief, immediately relaxing. He gave himself a mental kick, feeling the complete fool as he sheepishly looked around, thankful that no one was nearby to see his overreaction. He put both his axes back in their holsters at his hips, running a broad hand through his hair before continuing on down the road.

As he walked closer, he saw what he had automatically assumed was a warg, was not. Getting a better look, he realized it was in fact the head of a large wolf. He now stood before the fence post, his thick muscular arms crossed over his chest, head cocked in confusion. Hanging by a large nail on the rough wooden fence post hung the wolf's head, a few flies buzzing about the remains. Gimli could tell that this had once been a very handsome animal, male, full-grown but young, with a thick luxurious black coat. Gimli knew that someone was probably wearing it at this very moment, as a fur-lined cloak or other such clothing. 

__

He was confused- why would someone do this to a wolf? They were beneficial, and like the Ravens they were a noble race in their own right, shy, keeping mostly to themselves. _They were not evil like the wargs or goblins, so why do such a thing? _he thought, while rubbing his short cooper colored beard_. _

As if in answer, Gimli heard the bleating of the sheep, and he looked past the fence post and into the pasture to see the previously grazing animals being rounded up by two dogs and a boy carrying a stick. _So, stealing livestock_? Still though, what did Men expect when they moved into their territory? The loss of some animals was an acceptable trade off for the land they took from the Wolves; or so Gimli thought.

__

With its closed eyes and its partially open mouth, the wolf's face seem to be frozen in a moment of sorrowful anguish. Was it from the agony of its death? Or something else--things not done or simply the sorrow of dying alone at the hands of some uncaring Man? Gimli felt a sudden pang of sadness for the loss of such an elegant creature. No doubt his pack missed him, maybe even a mate or cubs. Would they go hungry because of his loss? Did his family mourn their loss…or was he alone? A lone wolf, with no pack…no family…dying alone.

__

With a final sad look at the wolf's remains, Gimli uncrossed his arms and continued once again on his way.

As Gimli got closer to town he could see more people walking about, working the fields, running errands. He even had to get out of the way of people on horseback (who he steered well clear of) and several mule-drawn carts, coming and going from town, filled to overflowing with bags of grain, hay and other such things. Before long Gimli had finally reached town. 

Ocendade was a cross-roads town bustling with activity, surrounded by pleasant farms and green forests, with the Blue Mountains standing guard in the south. The town was very prosperous, so prosperous that much of what the surrounding farms produced was exported, and there was much trading with the Elves of Lindon to the west and the various settlements of Men to the north and east. Gimli had no doubt that some of the grain and barley would even be headed for the Halls of Ered Luin in the Blue Mountains.

Dwarves were rare in this area, it being mainly an agricultural region and so near the Elven lands of Lindon, but he had traveled here once before, about two summers previously. Myia had somehow managed rope him and Ulfr into accompanying her on a visit to see her eldest sister, as well as picking up some barrels of special ale for Old Man Grad, who owned the tavern in Black Hollow. 

It was then, to Gimli's utter jaw dropping shock, that Myia had happily explained that her sister worked at one of the local whorehouses, and that she herself had also worked there before moving to Black Hollow to be with her other sister Shala (who too had also worked there for a time). When they had finally reached town, Myia had literally dragged him into 'The House of the Red Blossoms', with Ulfr tagging along. It was then and there that Gimli had finally met and gotten to know Myia's sister Ursla, who like her younger siblings had black hair, a shapely figure, and an easy going attitude.

He now, once again, found himself headed for the 'The House of the Red Blossoms', dreading what he was to tell Ursla. But it was his duty to inform her and she may even be able to get word to Myia.

~~~

As Gimli walked down the main road he let his eyes take in the town and all its bustling activity. Ocendade was much bigger than Black Hollow, and much nicer. The buildings here were clean, well-constructed wooden, and plaster structures with thatched roofs and even tile on some of the nicer buildings. Shops and vendors lined the main streets, tempting potential customers with their various confections and wares. 

Unlike the Hollow, where most of the people either worked in or provided support services to the coal mine, this town's inhabitants had a varying range of occupations. From merchants, tailors, and butchers; to bakers, hunters, and farmers, and many others besides. Walking through, Gimli was surprised to even see several light-haired Elves in gray traveling clothes. No doubt some of them were merchants, by the way one argued heatedly with a tall human over the worth of a large cart full of wine barrels, most likely headed for Lindon. Gimli made sure to steer well clear of them, his hand on the handle of his axe, keeping a wary eye on them until they were out of sight.

Even the ground under Gimli's scuffed up boots was different; unlike the dirt and gravel roads of Black Hollow and many other towns, the streets here were cobblestone and there were even several fountains, both large and small, scattered about (for drinking and decoration). Musicians, jugglers and various other street performers awed small crowds of onlookers for coins, as young pickpockets helped relieve the unwary of their money purses. Yes, this was definitely one of the largest and nicest towns Gimli had been in. 

Gimli immediately headed for the west side of town, leaving the main area through some alleyways and side streets, to where 'The House of the Red Blossoms' had been during his last visit here. This area was definitely more run down- the buildings were drabber, and laundry lines, full of clothes, hung above from various windows strung across the alleyways. Children and dogs played below, as tired looking Women swept or simply stood leaning in their doorways. This section of town, being poorer, was also frequented by the more shady residents of Ocendade, thieves, prostitutes, muggers. Luckily most were unwilling to mess with an armed Dwarf, and so most kept their distance. 

But when Gimli got to his destination, for some strange reason the brothel was no longer there. In fact nothing stood there but an empty space where some vendors had set up shop. He searched the area, checking other side streets and alleys, even going so far as asking a few people. 

Some just shook their heads, others ignored him and some even yelled at him- one particularly vocal Man (who reeked of cheap ale) made the mistake of yelling at him and then insulting his parentage. Being already not in the best of moods, Gimli decided that it was his solemn duty to teach the rather rude Man some much needed manners. 

With any luck someone was bound to find the unconscious Man soon. After all Gimli had made sure to leave the Man in the middle of the street, face down in a pile of horse dung. 

Gimli decided to wander back to the center of town and get something to eat, before going out and trying again. He strolled around the various shops and stalls, his stomach growling with all the delicious smells, before stopping at one particular vendor. He watched as a red-haired Man with an equally red-haired toddler in his other arm walked away from a large booth, eating what looked like strips of cooked beef put between a sliced bun of bread, with lettuce, tomatoes, and other such accoutrements. Never having had it before, and deciding it looked pretty good, Gimli decide to try it.

"Ah! What can I do for you?" asked a rather jolly Man behind the counter as Gimli stepped forward. He was a great bear of a Man, dressed in simple working clothes with a large belly hanging over his thick belt. His small dark-round eyes were surrounded by heavy laugh lines and a large bush of a beard.

"I'll have one of those," Gimli said, pointing to one of the crudely painted pictures on the wooden counter that depicted the food item he had seen the Man with the toddler eating. 

"Ah! Excellent choice, Master Dwarf! Than be me 'house special'!" he said, and Gimli watched him lumber off to make his order. 

As he waited by the counter a large jovial Woman, who was no doubt the Man's mate, came over. Her long blond hair was parted and pleated, and her bodice seemed near overflowing with an impressive bosom. Her round blue eyes zeroed in on him.

"Ooooh! And what a precious young Man we have here!" she squealed, which was quite impressive, considering how deep her voice was. Faster than the eye could see, she had reached over the counter with a thick arm. 

Gimli gave a rather undignified yelp as his cheek was suddenly caught in a painful pinch- she continued to coo, before he was finally released. He stood there in dazed shock, rubbing his sore cheek; he had definitely not expected that. 

"Brunhilda, leave the poor lad alone! You'll be scaring the customers! That be the third one today!" the Man admonished his wife, coming over with Gimli's meal. "Here you are, my good Dwarf!" he said, handing the food over, which Gimli gratefully took. 

"My thanks," Gimli said, handing over two copper shillings. He kept a wary eye on the happily smiling and oblivious Woman who stood next to her husband, just in case she tried to attack him again. 

"Enjoy!" the Man said happily, and both he and his wife waved as the Dwarf walked away, before turning their cheerful attention to another customer.

Gimli wandered around for a little while before finding a good spot where he could eat his lunch. He sat on the thick edge of a large stone fountain, watching the various people pass by, going about their business as he ate his meal. The fountain was large, with a circle at its center of several stone maidens holding large jugs over their shoulders, from which water poured continuously. 

Several other people rested at the fountain, sitting at the edge or standing nearby, out of the way of traffic. As he sat there he planned out what he would do next, deciding that he would see about getting a job while he was here. He knew that he would go through his saved wages rather quickly, if he wanted to get lodgings and food while here. 

He would try the local Blacksmith's shop to see if they needed help, before going off and trying to find 'the house of ill repute' again. If he had no luck there, then he would try the local grain dealer- they were usually always looking for strong able bodies to help toss and load the heavy bags of grain.

He finished the last bite of his meal, and knocked the crumbs off his hands. He leaned over the edge of the fountain, and caught some falling water in his broad cupped hands, drinking several handfuls before stepping back, refreshed. He shook the water from his hands, wiping the excess on his trousers before once again moving back into the bustling crowd, heading for the Blacksmith's shop he had seen earlier when he was looking for the whorehouse. 

A large bald Man with a big bristly mustache, carrying a butchered pig over his beefy shoulders, forced his way through the crowded street. Gimli watched as he shouldered past two chatting middle-aged Women, who were obviously out shopping. Not paying attention, they both gave a squawk of surprise and anger as the Man uncaringly hit one with his shoulder, almost knocking her down. Her full basket fell out of her hands, scattering various vegetables on the street, but the Man didn't even look back as he walked past. In fact Gimli noted that with the exception of her friend with whom she had been chatting, no one stopped to help the Woman pick up her groceries. 

They just simply walked past her and her friend, some not even bothering to avoid stepping on the poor Woman's vegetables. 

As he was near, and deciding to be honorable and help them, Gimli bent down and picked up a green apple that had rolled away and managed to rescue a head of cabbage before it was walked on. 

"I have your cabbage and apple here. Are you all right, my Lady?" he asked, holding out the cabbage for her to take as he walked over to the two ladies. He stood before them as they finished picking up the last of the poor Woman's groceries.

"My thanks, dear!" she huffed gratefully, glancing up just briefly enough to see a set of large booted feet and the shadow of someone standing in front of her. She and her friend finally got up, full baskets in hand. 

"At least someone around here be having some decency to help…" Her cheerful voice trailed off when both she and her friend finally looked up from dusting the last of the dirt off their long skirts, to see a young Dwarf standing expectantly in front of them, holding the cabbage out for her. 

Their smiles immediately disappeared and they stared at him blankly for a moment before their eyes narrowed suspiciously. Then the first Woman, who just moments before had been thanking him, stepped forward and snatched the cabbage from his grasp. She jabbed it into her basket before impatiently throwing her hand out again, silently demanding the apple in Gimli's other hand.

At first Gimli was simply stunned, then a spark of anger flared to life. _Fine! If that is the thanks I am to be given, _he thought. 

With that, he put on his most winning smile and held the apple out for her to take. But just as she was going to snatch it back he clamped his strong fingers around it; juice and pulp went flying as he crushed it with no effort. Then he opened his hand again, offering her the dripping pulpy remains of the crushed apple.

The two Women gave matching gasps of shock, their hands flying to their mouths as they stared wide-eyed at him. Maybe it was the sudden show of strength or perhaps the spark of something dark in the Dwarf's eyes, or maybe they just then noticed the three large axes hanging from his belt. Whatever it was they backed away, fear now in their once haughty eyes, as Gimli calmly dropped the apple's remains on the ground at their feet. The two Women quickly fled, leaving the still smiling Dwarf behind.

_That will teach them!_ Gimli snorted to himself, his smile fading as he licked the apple juice and bits of pulp off his hand, watching them scurry away into the crowd. With a final glare at the remains of the crushed apple, he plunged back into the busy and fast moving crowd. The crowds would have been daunting and downright dangerous for a child or a Halfling, but Gimli had no problem, shouldering his way past all the tall bodies as he moved towards his destination.

Many an ignorant Human made the mistake of thinking of Dwarves as being only short, ill-tempered, stubby-limbed, and round-bellied beings, who stood only as high as a Man's waist or as high as the average Hobbit. But the truth was far different, for it was Aule who had designed the race of Durin, and Aule was the ultimate craftsman. 

Most Dwarves stood between four and five and a half feet, coming up chest or shoulder height to the average Man. Shorter than Men, yet taller than Halflings. Dwarves were usually heavier and broader built than Men. Their muscle mass was larger and denser than that of Men and Elves, giving them incredible strength and endurance. They could also move with surprising speed if there was a need, making them excellent fighters. 

With their oversized upper bodies and thick powerful legs and short torsos, they looked terribly ungainly next the slim and lithe bodies of the Elves. Then again, all races looked ungainly when compared to the Firstborn of Iluvatar.

Gimli made his way over to the local Blacksmith's shop where an old Man was single-mindedly pounding out a horseshoe on a horned anvil with a hammer. Gimli stopped just inside the large doors and gave the shop and its occupants a once-over, before deciding that this looked like a promising place to find a job.

The Man was old with white stringy hair on his nearly bald head, and he wore a thick apron and heavy gloves. He had a rangy build but his arms were strong, corded with muscles from years of pounding out metal. It was a nice shop, clean with the smell of fresh hay and burning coal from the forge. 

Business must have been booming, for Gimli could see about five horses and two ponies in the stalls lining the right side of the shop, waiting to be shoed. As well, there was an assortment of weapons hanging up on the far side of the left wall, near a grinding stone, awaiting to be repaired or sharpened.

Gimli patiently waited until the smith was done hammering the shoe and had thrown it into the cooling barrel next to the anvil, before stepping forward, letting his presence be known. Having been around enough temperamental Dwarven smiths, Gimli knew most hated being interrupted while they were working, so it was best to try and talk to them when they were done or in-between projects. 

The Smith finally looked up at him with a glare, as he yanked the heavy work gloves off his gnarled hands before shoving them into a large pocket in his apron.

"What do you want?" he snapped in a scratchy voice.

"My pardon, Master Smith. But I'm looking for work and was wondering if--"

"No Dwarves!" the old Man snapped loudly, rudely interrupting him.

"Wha--?" Gimli said, confused and a bit taken aback by the Man's outburst.

"I said, no Dwarves! Can't ya read the sign?!" snapped the Man, jabbing a gnarled finger at something behind the young Dwarf. Gimli looked to where the old Man was pointing and saw a tattered old sign nailed to the open door of the shop that he hadn't noticed before. In bold letters written in common it read: 'DURIN'S' FOLK NOT WELCOME'.

For long moments Gimli just stood looking blankly at the sign; this was not the first time he had come across people and places that did not welcome Dwarves. But it still came as a bit of a shock after living in such fully integrated places like the Hollow, where only one's abilities and hard work counted. 

"See, you ain't welcome! Your kind…always stealing the good work…smithy and masonry…thinking' you're better than us!" The old smith continued to rant, but in his fervor he made the foolish mistake of stepping around the large anvil and stomping over to the now quite irate Dwarf, his forging hammer held threateningly in a white knuckled grip (apparently forgetting what else Dwarves are known for).

"Now get out of here! Ya dirty stinkin' dirt--" Whatever insult the smith was going to say was cut off with a sudden gasp. His small eyes went wide in fear as he suddenly found the edge of a very sharp axe under his scraggly chin.

"Watch your tongue, you senile old fart! Or I'll remove it for you!" Gimli warned him, his deep voice now full of sudden menace, his eyes glittering with anger.

"Pissing off the wrong people again, I see. When are ya going learn, Bliddyn?" came a sudden cheerful voice, nearly causing Gimli to jump. Not moving his axe from its position, Gimli turned his head in the direction of the new voice.

Standing in the doorway was a Man, but one like he had never seen before. Gimli could only stare in surprise- the newcomer looked like a Man with short brown hair and a pleasant face; he carried a walking cane and was well-dressed, with a short coat and blue vest with gold buttons. What was strange was that the Man's body seemed disproportionate, his arms and legs were far too short for his torso. He was also severely bowlegged and leaned heavily on his cane for support (3).

The old Smith seemed to immediately recognize the Man. "I didn't do nothing'! Just asked him to leave!" the old Man screeched piteously, still not daring to move for fear of the axe still held under his scraggly chin.

"Liar!" Gimli spat, head snapping back to the Man again. He gave a deep menacing growl- not only was this Man a bigot, but a liar also! If it was possible, the old smith's eyes seem get even bigger, his adam's apple bobbing on his thin neck as he gave a nervous swallow.

"That he is," the small Man laughed. "But please, peace, Master Dwarf!" He waddled over, a hand upraised, until he stood in front of them. Gimli could now see that he was about the size of a tall Hobbit or a very short Dwarf, coming up just below his own shoulder height. 

"He is but a crotchety, ignorant old Man," the small Man said, motioning to the old Man with a stubby arm towards the Smith, who shot him a glare but remained silent. "Please allow him to apologize. Bliddyn here meant no insult…did you, Bliddyn?" he drawled, looking expectedly at the old smith, who shot him another withering glare before turning his beady-eyed attention to the Dwarf.

_My Dwarven ass he didn't_, Gimli thought to himself.

"My apologies….Dwarf," Bliddyn said, fairly spitting out the word 'Dwarf'. Gimli continued to glare, watching the wrinkled Human grow increasingly nervous as the silence stretched, before giving a curt nod, lowering his axe and stepping away. The old Man immediately let out a gasp of relief, before scrambling quickly back behind the anvil, his scowl returning to his withered face.

"Now get out, both of ya!" he yelled in a wavering voice, pointing out the door with a gnarled hand that still held his forging hammer. Gimli just glared in disbelief at the old coot, but the small Man with the cane only gave a laugh and a shrug, before motioning for Gimli to follow him as he turned and ambled out of the shop. 

His curiosity sparked, Gimli put his axe back in its holster and followed the Man out of the shop and a little ways down the street, all the while intently watching this curious creature with the cane. He gave a few tentative sniffs of the Man's sent, trying to decipher what race he hailed from, but all his sensitive nose could smell was the reek of Men. Finally the Man stopped and turned to face him. 

"Greetings! I am Rhaenye. I'm the town's records keeper and librarian, at your service," the diminutive librarian said, with a short bow.

"Gimli, son of Gloin, at yours," he said, giving an answering bow.

"I was out on my daily walk, when I happened by and saw you. You must forgive him, Master Dwarf. He is but a foolish old man, who blames everyone else for the troubles of the world," Rhaenye said, starting to walk again at a more sedate pace, Gimli falling in step beside him.

"Forgive my ignorance, Master Rhaenye. But… I have never seen one such as you before; what race do you hail from?" Gimli asked, his deep brown eyes studying the librarian that walked beside him. "You smell like a Man, yet…"

"Think nothing of it, my good Dwarf!" Rhaenye said with a laugh. "I assure you I am of the race of Men- I was born this way," he explained. 

"Are there others like you?"

"Why yes, there are. My wife is also as I am. Though of our three children one, my eldest, is of 'normal' height. But in this day and age of Middle-earth who is to say what is 'normal' and what is not, eh?" he said with a jovial snort, coming to a stop by another fountain before sitting down with a grunt on the stone bench in front of it. This was one of the several smaller fountains around the town, used only for decoration. 

"I had heard that Men such as I, are called 'Nelwens' in some places. Some have even formed small villages of nothing but people just like me," Rhaenye continued. "I have even heard that in some far off places, where Elves, Dwarves, and Dragons are considered nothing but fanciful stories, they call folk born such as I 'Dwarfs'."

Gimli immediately balked at the very thought. "Dwarfs!? Preposterous! Forgive me, Master Rhaenye. But you are no Dwarf-- far from it!" Birth defects were very rare in Dwarves, and the few that were born with severe defects, of a nature that would pose a serious hindrance to work or any type of future manual labor, usually did not live past the first hours after their birth. Infanticide was a dark element of Dwarven society, a society that had no place for the weak who could not work or fight. It was carried out only by females, usually by the actual mothers- males had no say in the matter. 

"And don't I know it," Rhaenye said, with a good-natured chuckle. "If I was, I certainly would not put up with half the stupidity that I am forced to deal with."

"I see you must be new in town, yes?" the small Man asked, taking a small handkerchief from his coat pocket to dab at some of the sweat on his brow, before tucking it back in his pocket.

"Aye, though I have visited here once before," Gimli answered, deciding that this Man, being the town's records keeper, might know the location of 'The House of the Red Blossoms', if it was still in existence.

"Very good," Rhaenye said, looking out into the crowds as he enjoyed the sunshine, both his short hands resting on the hilt of his cane.

"Could you help me? I'm trying to locate a certain place," Gimli asked.

"By all means! I know just about every nook and cranny in this town," the Man said proudly, seeming to puff up with pride. "What be the place you seek?"

"Could you direct me to 'The House of the Red Blossoms'? The place where it once stood houses nothing now but a row of vegetable vendors."

"The whorehouse?" Rhaenye said in astonishment, and both of his eyebrows shot up as he turned to give the Dwarf a surprised look. 

"Nay! Not for that!" Gimli said quickly, shaking his head and holding up his hands, knowing what the Man must be thinking. " I need to speak with one of the Ladies who works there…. I bring grave news of one of her sisters," he explained.

"Oh…oh. Well then, nothing wrong if you were going for a 'visit'. Getting the itch and all, eh, eh?" Rhaenye said with a laugh, making a clicking noise out the corner of his mouth, a twinkle in his eye. Gimli rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, trying to keep a blush from his face, but the librarian just gave another laugh.

"They moved to the old inn on the south side of town; the old place got gutted by a fire. Just go down that street until you come to the fountain with the stone fish, then go right, three blocks," he directed, pointing down the street. 

"Best be careful, that be a bad area of town. Though I imagine you won't be having a problem. Then make a left down the third alleyway-- then just look for the big inn with the red flowers painted on the door. You can't miss it!"

"My thanks, Master Rhaenya!" Gimli said gratefully, giving the strange Man a deep bow before trotting away in the direction Rhaenye had directed, quickly disappearing into the crowds of people.

"My pleasure! Good luck, Master Dwarf!" the diminutive librarian called after him with a smile. 

~~~

Gimli stood before the door of what had once been a large distinguished inn, that was now the new home of 'The House of the Red Blossoms'. Someone had painted crude designs of crawling green vines with small red flowers on the side of the door, adding at touch of whimsy to the otherwise drab looking building. He gave the thick door three heavy knocks to let the residents inside know that whoever was at the door was there to visit or speak to someone; just walking in without knocking meant that you were a prospective 'client'.

Like most Dwarves Gimli found places like these completely repugnant. The blatant mistreatment of females, children (and some Men) was utterly barbaric, in his opinion. But he was not the kind to cast judgment on other races and their strange cultures, though he greatly felt like it at times.

Gimli waited patiently for several long moments before he heard some movement followed by someone's angry muttering. The door was finally opened by a rather harsh looking middle-aged Women, who gave him a pointed glare. _Was everyone in this damned town of such sour a disposition_? Gimli thought tiredly to himself. 

"What ya want?" she snapped, as she wiped her flour-covered hands on her noticeably food stained apron, obviously having just come from the kitchen.

"I need to speak with the Lady Ursla," he answered simply.

She gave a snort, mumbling under her breath something about _'Lady, my sore foot_,' as she stepped aside and ushered him in, before slamming the door behind him.

"Ursla! Someone here ta see ya!" she bellowed before storming away, leaving Gimli standing in the main entrance. 

The interior of the place was fairly dark, and the cloying scent of burning incense hung heavily in the air. Many red pillows, fabrics and drapes were scattered about; the walls were cluttered with numerous tapestries, some of which were quite explicit, depicting various sexual acts and escapades. A few Men, no doubt clients, lounged about in the outer rooms with a few the working Women. Several of them gave him strange looks, which Gimli ignored. The more private rooms were located on the second floor, accessed by a long broad staircase. 

Some might have thought the interior decor to be rich and sensually mysterious, but Gimli just thought it horribly tacky-- the tapestries were so vile and crude they were something to be looked at with amusement. The incense did nothing to disguise the musky, sickening smell of Men and the various 'activities' that constantly took place here, from Gimli's sensitive nose. He knew his father would take his axe to him if he knew of his son willingly going into such a place as this, let alone previously been here… Gimli didn't even want to imagine what his mother would do if she were still living- probably skin him alive. 

It was then that a curvy raven-haired Women, wearing nothing but a black laced-up bodice and a long green skirt, appeared at the top of the stairs, looking only mildly curious as to who wanted to speak with her. 

"Gimli!" she cried, a big smile spreading over her face as she spotted him. An answering smile spread over his own face as he watched her quickly descending the stairs, her large gold hoop earrings ringing merrily as she went. 

"Well! If it ain't Myia's 'ansome Dwarf friend. Come in, come in! What can I do for ya, Lov?" she greeted him warmly, giving him a quick embrace and a peck on the cheek, and taking hold of his hands before stepping away to have a look at him. He watched as her smile melted into a worried frown, concern shining in her dark eyes as she took notice of the difference in his appearance since last she had seen him.

"Have you seen Myia? Is she well?" he asked hurriedly before she could say anything, a pleading look in his eyes as he gave her slim hands a squeeze.

"She be more than well," she answered, her smile back in place as she gave his hands an answering squeeze, knowing that he had only asked to avoid her unspoken question.   
"That girl! Wilder than a Wood Elf, I tell ya! Drivin' that poor lad, Dreak, to an early grave! Surprised he don't already have gray hairs," she laughed.

"That I have no doubt," Gimli said with a chuckle, letting go of her hands. 

"Speakin' of wild, where's that wild friend of yours-- Ulfr, wasn't it?" she asked, looking behind him as if expecting the amber-eyed Dwarf to be lurking about. 

Gimli felt his heart give a hard lurch at the mention of his friend's name, and taking a deep breath he opened his mouth to say something… but found that nothing came out. He tried again before giving a harsh shake of his head. 

"I-- forgive me Ursla, but… May we go someplace more private? I have grave news to tell you," he said, his tone near pleading.

"Oh dear, this must be serious," she said, her frown back as she unconsciously touched her bottom lip with her fingers. "Come on, up to me room, and you can tell me all about it," she said, motioning him to follow her. Gimli gave a simple nod, and followed as she led him further into the dark interior of the bordello. 

"Merry, can you cover for me, for a bit?" Ursla asked, walking up to a very bored looking Woman who was filing her long nails as she leaned against a wall. Gimli decided that she was probably one of the most beautiful (human) Women he had ever seen; her body was almost Elvish looking, her skin a deep rich chocolate brown, and a long mane of thick black tightly curled hair fell down her back. 

"Sure thing, Ursla. But it be a bit slow today, so I don't think ya really hafta worry about it none," she said, looking up with a smile, before going back to her nails.

"My thanks, anyways," she said, flashing the statuesque Woman a grateful smile before turning and heading for the large staircase that led up to the second floor and the private rooms. Gimli couldn't help another look back at the dark-skinned Woman, before following Ursla up the stairs.

A willowy dark-haired Woman in a purple robe, a small elegant smoking pipe held in one of her long-fingered hands, walked out of some shadows where she had stood unnoticed. She took a drag from it as she casually strolled over to the bottom of the stairs to get a better look at the two ascending figures.

"Oh, that's a first! Didn't think their kind came into places like this," she said in an amused voice, taking another drag on her pipe as she watched Ursla and the young Dwarf disappear to the right, down the hall at the top of the staircase.

"What's a first? I didn't see," said a petite blond Woman, walking over to stand beside the smoking brunette as she leaned against the stair railing. Her blond hair was parted into two long pleats and she wore a simple long skirt and bodice, the laces left half undone.

"Ursla's got a Dwarf client!" said the taller Woman with a laugh.

"A Dwarf!? Poor girl…"

"Poor girl, me arse! Did you see him? Downright handsome that one--and that hair! I'd kill for that kind of color," she said with a wistful shake of her head.

"But--'andsome? But you said he was a Dwarf!?" May said, blinking in genuine confusion

"Careful, May. Your gaping ignorance is showing," the first snorted, before explaining. "Dwarves be like Men, some be ugly… some be fair," she said with a shrug.

"I am not ignorant!" May huffed, affronted. "Besides, I know these things! Dwarves can't be 'ansome, 'cause they're only a race of short, hairy, mean and ugly Men. They don't even got no women of their own, so they gotta carve their children from stone! My father used to tell me so," she said with complete conviction.

"Really now? And just how many Dwarves have you seen?" the other asked, looking at the small blond from out of the corner of her heavily coal-lined eyes.

"Plenty! There was that one, uh…umm….you know on the road, and…umm--"

"Oh, do shut up," the brunette interrupted with an impatient roll of her eyes, as she blew some smoke out of the corner of her mouth. She gave the top of the stairs one more look, then finally sauntered off, saying something under her breath about 'ignorant farm peasants'. Her purple robe flowing artfully behind her, as she left the confused and insulted blond behind.

"I am not ignorant!" May called after the brunette, giving her foot a stomp and folding her arms over her chest angrily.

~~~ 

An hour later in Ursla's room…

She lay crumbled in the middle of the floor, her face in her hands as she sobbed, her body shaking with racking tremors. Her green skirt lay in disarray about her, and her long dark hair hid her face as it trailed on the floor from her bowed head, exposing her pale long neck. Gimli sat on the floor nearby, his back against the wall by the room' only window. His head rested against the wall behind him as he stared up at the cracked plaster ceiling, his terrible story and the fate of Ursla's sister now told.

"That foul--! The…the… BEASTS! Oh, me poor Shala! Her little ones! It ain't right!" Ursla cried, smashing a fist against the hard wooden floor, then again, and again, with escalating force. Soon she was pounding on the floor with both fists with all her might, as she near howled in her grief, her large hoop earrings ringing merrily all the while.

When it became obvious that she wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon, Gimli, concerned that she would hurt herself, got up and came over to her. He put a calming hand on her back, calling for her to stop and calm down. When she continued to ignore him, he finally grabbed her gently by the arms and picked her up, away from the floor. No longer having the floor to take her frustrations out on, she turned her blind rage and grief on him, smacking and beating on him with her fists. He winced and grimaced as she fought, scratched and yanked his long hair. 

"Why, WHY!?!" she screamed. Her face, her red lip paint was smudged, her black hair in complete disarray, her pain-filled eyes wild as tears streamed unabated down her face.

"Stop! Ursla!! Stop this!!!" he yelled, trying to hold onto her and talk some sense into her. He let out a loud curse in Khazdul, when she grabbed hold of his short beard and gave a particularly vicious tug. It was then that he tripped on her long skirt and down they both went with a crash. Luckily Gimli recovered quickly and getting to his knees, he grabbed the still thrashing Ursla by the upper arms again, dragging the screaming and crying Woman up to her knees with him. 

"Ursla! Stop this--damn it all! Ursla!" Still she fought, and finally Gimli had had enough.

"URSLA! STOP THIS!!! he bellowed, giving her a hard shake, causing her head to fly back and forth. Gimli gave an internal wince- he hated to do it, the Dwarven part of him balking at treating a Woman in such a manner, but he saw no other choice. 

The shake seemed to work for she stopped; her screams fell silent as she stared at him with wide, bloodshot, but aware eyes. They both stayed that way, staring at one another, their heavy breathing the only sound in the now deathly quiet room. 

Seeing that she was now back in control of herself, Gimli slowly let go of her arms, sitting back on his heels. Wordlessly Ursla raised a shaky hand to his shoulder, her long fingers ghosting over some of the thick scars there, before putting her cool hand on his cheek over the red imprint where one of her wild hits had found its mark. It had not been hard enough to bruise his tough skin, but it stung nevertheless. She studied his strong-featured face, his long hair in disarray from her pulling on it, but it was his eyes that held her attention, for in those deep brown pools she saw her own pain, and more, mirrored there. They looked at one another and saw an ally, a friend, and a fellow lost soul. 

"Oh Valar! Forgive me! Please forgive me, Gimli!" she sobbed on his shoulder, crushing him in an embrace. She held on to him, her hands fisting the material of his buff-colored shirt, as if he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I--I'm so angry! I should be sad, grievin', but I'm only angry. So angry… It's not fair, me Shala… her--her babies…" she sobbed.

Gimli said nothing, staring off into space, his own emotions a whirl. He calmly patted her back and unconsciously began to rock her gently in his arms, both of them taking the simple comfort of being held. 

"I feel like there's a wind storm, Gimli." Ursla said in a soft voice, barely above a whisper, after her sobs had finally stopped. "It be feelin' like I'm being carried away, like a dried up old leaf."

Gimli stared unfocused over her shoulder, his dark, now hollow-looking eyes dry of tears, his true gaze directed at old memories that flashed through his mind. 

"Me too…" 

There they stayed in silence, their thoughts far away- from the room, the whorehouse, and the town of Ocendade. Away south, to the smoking ruins of a small coal mining town. 

It was long moments later that they heard the sound of hurrying feet out in the hall, and they both turned to look at the door, right before it burst open. Three Women stood in the doorway; one was armed with a broom, another with a rolling pin, all with expectant and concerned faces (4.).

"Ursla!" yelled the small brunette, with the broom.

"What in Mordor is going on in here?!" demanded the one brandishing the rolling pin.

"Ursla! Are you alright, girl!?" asked the small blond one that had opened the door. 

The Women's eyes visibly bulged as they took in the scene of the two on the floor before them. With their disheveled hair, their clothes in disarray, both of them flushed and in a tight embrace on the floor, it was not hard to imagine what they must look like to the three. The silence stretched as the two groups continued to stare at one another, before Ursla began to tense and her temper snapped.

"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OOUUUUUT!!!" Ursla screamed angrily at them, all of a sudden. Gimli grimaced, his eyes scrunched shut at the sheer volume, her screams being almost right in his ear since she still clung to him. The three jumped and quickly scrambled out the door, which slammed after them. The two on the floor looked at the door for a moment, before turning to one another.

"You know, they were only worried--it should be comforting knowing that they would come to your aid," Gimli said, a small smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. Ursla rolled her eyes with a snort as she finally released him from their embrace.

"What took 'em so bloody long?! I'd be long dead, if ya really ad been killin' me!" she said, while angrily wiping at her tears. "I imagine I be lookin' a complete fright," she said, giving the Dwarf an embarrassed glance, before stumbling up and going over to her dresser that doubled as a vanity.

"I imagine I'm no better," he said, running his hands through his thick hair as he got up as well, before walking over to the wall and taking a seat by the window.

Ursla's room was medium-sized, with a large bed pushed against one wall near the room's one large window. There were several chests, a small writing desk, and a large wooden dresser. A smaller dresser, the top of which was covered in various bottles and brushes, was equipped with a large polished silver mirror and a stool in front of it, where Ursla now sat as she cleaned herself up and fixed her makeup. 

Gimli looked out the window, watching a clothesline hung with numerous undergarments sway with the breeze. A small finch was perched on the line, grooming its feathers.

"Forgive me, Ursla. I was unable to--," he started to apologize, but she cut him off.

"You be stoppin' that, this instant!" she demanded, whipping around on the stool to spear him with a look that would take no argument. "It wasn't your fault! The fault be with that vile snake Rowell, and them drivers, them bloody goblins! Not with you or anyone else! 

"What I did--Oh! Just ignore that! I was bein' an idiot, gone plum out of my mind!"

"No… You were just in pain…shock," he said softly, from where he sat leaning against the wall. Silence fell once again as she turned around and began fixing her hair, running a thin bone brush through her dark locks.

"My poor Shala--she'd gone so far… Only to have such a thing happen…. It's not fair, them's getting away with--, " She suddenly froze, her eyes going wide with a sudden realization, and a moment later her bone brush dropped to the floor, forgotten. 

"Wait! One of them wagon drivers comes here every two weeks!" she said, in a near breathless gasp. 

Gimli immediately sat up at hearing this, his complete attention locked on her as she quickly got up and began to pace. He felt his heart rate speed up in his chest; he'd pretty much given up all hopes of ever finding Rowell or any of the other wagon drivers, of being able to take revenge for what they had helped do. He got to his feet as well, waiting expectantly for her to continue, a new fire coming back to his eyes.

"Bastard! Goes by the name of Tir. He's not one 'o my clients, but he be one of Ruby's regulars! Always makes a point of comin' in, always flirtin' all the girls up. Flirtin' me up. All this time and he knew…knew about Shala, her babies…talking me up, with that slimy smile 'o his!" she growled, her hands balling into white-knuckled fists as she seethed with anger.

"If we can get him alone--get him to tell where the rest of them snakes be at!" she said excitedly, the flames of retribution flashing in her gray-blue eyes as she looked at Gimli.

"Where Rowell is at!" Gimli added. "I'll make him pay for the agonies he and all the others caused!" he promised, a malevolent grin splitting his face.

"I'll ask Merry to have a talk with Miss D--she's the headmistress of this here place. Merry be D's lover. And if anyone can get Ruby to talk, it will be her!" 

"Why not simply demand it from this 'Ruby' Woman?" Gimli asked in confusion.

"'Cause that cancerous bitch can't stand me. Sooner be cutting' off her own hand, than help me." Ursla said with obvious venom, as she gave herself one final look over in the mirror. Gimli open his mouth to ask something, but she cut him off, seeing his expression in the mirror.

"Trust me. Ya don't wanna know," she said, turning around. One would never have been able tell that she had been crying and in hysterics only a short time ago. Her hair, coal-lined eyes, and lip paint were once again perfect, though her eyes now glittered with pain and a hot anger that had not been there before.

"Fair enough," Gimli relented with a shrug, running a hand through his thick hair.

"Come on, Luv, let's get some food in ya, for the time bein'. I think Mavis made a big pot 'o stew this morning'," she said, walking to the door while re-tying the laces of her black bodice that had become loose earlier. 

~~~

The kitchen was very spacious and airy, with several large windows and a sizable cooking hearth. A long heavy counter sat in front of it- this was where most of the food preparation was done. There were several entrances that led to various parts of the bordello, and a door in the back opened to a small courtyard where a tall tree stood. Many shelves and cabinets lined the walls, and a large wooden table with several chairs dominated the center of the room. 

It was here that Gimli sat, his boots dangling but a few inches from the polished flagstone floor, as he voraciously finished up a bowl of simple rabbit stew. Surrounding the table were a few Men and a large group of Women, some of whom were fully dressed and others only partly, brazenly not caring about their nudity. They chatted amongst themselves, as they watched the newcomer that Ursla had introduced before leaving to talk with the headmistress. 

Having finished his bowl, Gimli turned big beseeching eyes to the blond older Woman beside him, who was wearing an apron. "My Lady Mavis, truly only your loveliness could surpass your wondrous cooking. Please, I must beg another bowl of your delicious stew," he said, laying on the charm as he held out the bowl.

Lady Mavis, a pleasantly plump and round faced Women, gave a delighted laugh as a blush colored her cheeks prettily. She took his empty bowl and ladled some more into it before setting it in front of him again.

"My eternal thanks, my Lady," he said, giving her a roguish smile and a wink. 

"Ooh! Best be careful, ladies, this one here could charm the knickers right off an Elven Queen, I reckon!" she said with a laugh, as the Dwarf began to dig in with gusto.

"That's not a problem-- some of us aren't wearing any!" said a tall beautiful Woman, holding a slim pipe carved with complex designs, who was standing nearby. She had coal-black hair that hung loose nearly down to her waist, and she was pale, long-limbed and stood brazenly in a red robe left open (leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination). "Hey there, handsome. If the nights get too cold, I can help warm you up. No charge," she cooed with a promising wink, blowing a small smoke ring. 

Gimli would have flushed beet red if he had been paying attention, but he was so focused on eating at the moment, the Elven King of Mirkwood could have been on the table dancing and doing a strip tease, and Gimli would not have noticed.

"Pearl, you bring new meaning to the term 'whore'! Child, do you have any decency?" said a fully dressed older Woman, with tightly bound brown hair that was shot through with gray. 

"Oh, shit on your 'decency'" Pearl said, rolling her eyes.

"There is no need to be vulgar!" sniffed the other haughtily.

"Vulgar? Ha! This is a whorehouse, if you haven't noticed," said the younger Woman sarcastically. She took a long drag on her pipe and exhaled purposefully in the older Woman's face, who coughed and waved her hands before her, trying to ward away the smoke.

"Don't see what all the fuss be about. It's just some mangy Dwarf," sniffed another Woman disdainfully. She was the same dour Woman with the stained apron, who had let Gimli in earlier.

"Careful, May! You keep staring so hard and you're going to burn a hole in his head!" a lithe young Man laughed, poking the small blond in the ribs. He was fully dressed in a simple gray tunic and leggings; he was one of the three male prostitutes that worked the brothel. 

The small blond Woman gave a startled jump, before turning and shooting him a glare. Then she turned back to stare mystified at the Dwarf, who was paying absolutely no attention to any of them as he continued to nearly inhale his stew.

"I don't understand… they're supposed to be ugly… old …fat…" May mumbled, clearly not able to comprehend the strange copper-haired Dwarf in front of her. The young Man beside her only giggled at her mystification. 

"I don't like Dwarves, they're just so…well you know," said another Woman, looking down her nose at him while filing at one of her long nails. 

"Oh! He's adorable! Can we keep him?" squealed a young lady who was sitting on the side of the table, her near-red hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of her head with a ribbon.

"This one just ain't my type--I like them Elves better. What think you, Elise?" asked another, looking to the Woman beside her, who shook her head in disapproval.

"Elves, Dwarves--Bah- to the lot of them! Stick to your own kind, I say!" she grumped, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Aye, he's handsome alright, but I like me Men a bit taller. This one only comes up to my chest," said a tall blond Woman, standing on the other side of the table, on Gimli's right.

"Doesn't sound like a problem to me- just the right level," said a plump dark-haired beauty with a smirk, giving her impressive bosom a shake.

"I don't know, I like my Dwarves a bit older--more beard, and with a bit more meat on their bones, too. This one's downright skinny," said a handsome brown-haired Man clad only in a patterned brown robe, his long hair falling past his shoulders, as he watched Gimli start on his third helping of Mavis's stew. 

"What are ya talking about, Draco? We ain't never had any of Durin's folk come here as-- well, none as actual 'clients' anyways," said a short Woman with equally short auburn hair.

"Not here- when I was living in Shiprock, working at the local tavern," he said, his voice holding a note of annoyance. 

It was just then that Lady D, followed by Ursla and Merry, swept into the kitchen, and all chatter immediately ceased. 

She stood there, her folded fan in both hands, an arched eyebrow raised as she regarded the large group around the table with her storm-gray eyes. She was a tall older Woman who still had a regal beauty about her. Her flame red hair was held high on her head in a complicated bun, the color being the more orange type of red hair that humans had (not the truly deep reds of the Dwarves), shot through with silver at her temples. She wore a dress and bodice of deep forest-green with a black shawl over her thin shoulders, and a dainty pair of black laced-up leather boots. 

"Elizabeth, your regular is here. As for the rest of ya-- standing around like a gaggle of geese. Get going. Shoo! Shoo! Get out of 'ere, the lot of ya!" she ordered, as the various ladies and Men drained quickly out of the kitchen, leaving only the four in the large room. Gimli had gotten up from his chair, having pushed his empty bowl away at the three's arrival, and now stood in front of them.

"So this be the Dwarf?" the older Woman asked, looking the young Dwarf over with a critical eye, her gaze lingering on his axes.

"Miss D, meet Gimli, son of Gloin," Ursla introduced them, coming to stand by Gimli's side and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"At your service," Gimli said with a deep bow.

"At yours," she greeted back. "Please, have a seat," she said, motioning for him to sit back down, which he did. The lovely dark-skinned Merry also took a seat at the table, in an empty chair opposite from him. 

As he sat down, he noticed that someone was peering unobserved through the entrance to the kitchen, behind the standing Lady D, obviously trying not to be seen. By the small delicate hand, the mass of wavy brown hair, and the large pair of liquid black-eyes, Gimli guessed it to be a young Woman. Why she was hiding he couldn't guess- perhaps she didn't want to be caught eavesdropping on a conversation? Whoever it was apparently caught sight of him watching her, for she gave a little jump and disappeared. Gimli turned his attention to the red-haired Woman when she began to speak.

"So… Ursla here tells me that you would like me to hand over Tir. So you both can get information and some form of…retribution, yes?" she asked, watching as both Gimli and Ursla gave sharp nods. 

"I will be perfectly honest with you--including you, Ursla. I don't give a 'Hobbit's ass-hair' about this Black Hollow, or any of the people in it. I care only for those under this roof, and under my care. But!" She held up a hand, effectively stopping the tirade that Gimli and Ursla had begun to voice. Both of them were visibly bristling at her words and dismissive tone.

"Dastardly villain or not, he's a regular customer who pays well… So, why should I let you have him, when he is a steady and valuable resource?" she asked, once again holding up a hand to stop them from saying anything. "I'll give you Tir, but… you must do something for me in return," she said, tapping her fan against her palm. 

"What do you propose?" Gimli asked warily, one copper eyebrow cocked, after looking at Ursla and getting an eager nod.

"I want you to help me take care of a continuing problem, by the name of Crasus," she said, before explaining further in a calm and businesslike manner. 

"He works over at the granary, comes here almost every week. He cut up one of my girls. Cut up her face…bad. Just 'cause she gave a little giggle at how small his pecker was. She didn't mean nothing by it. She didn't know no better. She's just a girl, seventeen summers--"

"A child!? You let a mere child work in a place like this!" Gimli roared, now glaring at the headmistress in angry disbelief. _What was wrong with these people!?_

"Don't you dare be getting that way with me! What would you prefer? Her out on the streets, begging? She'd be a lamb for the wolves out there!" she snapped angrily at him, as they both glared at one another. "This ain't no little mining town or village; this be a whole other world, full of its own dangers, just like any of those in the wilds." 

Gimli held his tongue, wanting to say more, but caught Ursla's gaze; she gave a small shake of her head, motioning for him to stay quiet. 

"Here she has a bed, food, friends. People who look out for her, she's safe under this roof-- "

"Sounds like you haven't done a very good job so far of keeping' her 'safe'," Gimli said sarcastically, looking her right in the eye. 

Her thin painted mouth tightened, and the color drained from her face; she suddenly looked as if she might lash out and strike him for his words, as she stared down at him with eyes of pure ice. 

If she had been a Dwarf female, Gimli knew he'd probably be sprawled across the room by now, but instead she kept her storm gray eyes locked on his. They both continued to stare at one another, the heavy tension causing both Ursla and Merry to shift uncomfortably as they watched the two face off.

With a defeated sigh, Lady D finally broke away, turning to stare out the door leading to the small courtyard for a long moment. Finally she turned back to him, her eyes flashing with pain and anger that was directed more at herself than at him.

"All I want is justice!" she demanded angrily, her hands fisting around the folded black fan.

Gimli watched her, saw the tension in her shoulders as she struggled to replace her mask of cool uncaring. _So… the Ice Queen has a heart after all_, he thought to himself. Merry looked concerned and was going to get up and go to her, but Lady D saw this and motioned for her lover to remain seated. 

The silence remained unbroken, and Gimli decided to speak, cutting the tension in the room.

"Tell me more about this Man."

"The bastard be an old friend of Clots--cut some deal with him. Damn him anyway!" she spat, pulling her shawl tighter about herself and feeling grateful to the Dwarf for breaking the silence. "So he comes back here, always asking for her--don't want anyone else, always her. Thinks he owns her or something, now."

"Aye! Sam's dragged him out of here more times than can be counted. And that Crasus is always allowed back!" Ursla, added from where she stood next to Gimli's chair.

"As long as he's lining Clots's pockets with gold, Clots will keep letting him back," Lady D said with a note of finality in her voice.

"Clots?" Gimli asked in confusion, looking back and forth between the two Women.

"Master Clots be the owner of this place," Lady D answered.

"Can you not stop this Crasus?" demanded the Dwarf, rolling the strange name over his tongue like a bad taste.

"We've tried everything. From literally standing in his way, to begging, my others girls even offering themselves--nothing works," she said with a tired sigh, unconsciously rubbing a large ring on her finger. 

"Aye, the local authorities and even our clients don't care. They don't be caring about a bunch of whores--'specially not in this section o' town," Urlsa agreed sadly, taking a seat on the table next to Gimli's chair.

"Just when I think I have the race of Men understood, their strangeness is only driven further home. Women not knowing how to fight--kept more like servants!?" he said, shaking his head in utter bafflement. "Treating Women as such…it's, it's utterly barbaric!" he said angrily, slamming his fist into his palm.

"I must agree with ya there, Master Dwarf!" Lady D said with a laugh, an approving look on her face. "I can now see why Ursla and Myia are so fond of your kind."

"Told ya!" Ursla chirped with a wink, and gave one of Gimli's thick forelocks a playful tug, earning her a mock glare from the Dwarf.

"So…we have a deal then? Crasus for Tir?" Lady D asked. 

Gimli got up from his chair.

"Aye. Crasus, for Tir," he agreed, giving her a bow, sealing the deal. 

"Good! Now then. Sam, my usual bouncer, is out sick for a few days. You can fill in for him until Master Tir shows up. Some of our clientele can get a bit rowdy," she explained dryly. 

"Until then you can stay in one of our spare rooms. I'm not gonna pay ya-- but I can guarantee you a good bed and three square meals a day while you're here. 

"I'll expect you to do your job at 'any' hour of the night or day! You hear a shout, you come running. Got it?" she asked, spearing him with a firm gaze. 

He gave a curt nod of his head, not particularly relishing the idea of staying and working in this place, but seeing no other option at the moment.

"I understand," he said with a small bow, getting up from his chair.

"Good. And don't be expecting any 'freebies'.

She gave a bark of laughter, the other two Women also laughing as a deep red blush burst over his face and he started to sputter in staunch denial.

"Peace, Master Dwarf!" she said with a laugh. "Dwarf though you be, Ursla tells me that you are still a Male. So I must lay out some ground rules, yes?" 

Gimli gave a nod of understanding, but kept his mouth closed, still a bit flushed. He shot Ursla a withering glare as she still snickered behind a hand, and crossed his muscular arms over his chest.

"Good, Ursla will show you to the spare room. Get some sleep," she ordered, shooing them both out of the kitchen.

"D, what if Master Clots comes back? And even if he don't, he's bound to find out about Crasus," Merry said, coming over to stand by the older Woman, a worried expression on her elegant face. 

"Don't worry none about Master Clots. He won't be out of bed for a few days…and very soon we won't have to worry about him at all," she said simply. 

As Gimli followed Ursla to one of the entrances that lead up to the second floor, he watched as Lady D unconsciously stroked the large ring on her finger. To anyone else it looked like a large intricate silver ring, but to Gimli's Dwarven eyes it was clearly a 'poison' ring. Specially made so that none would suspect that the beautiful ring stored a deadly poison, it could be opened by its owner so they could slip said poison into their victim's food or drink. 

Gimli suspected that the brothel owner, Master Clots, was not destined to be in this world much longer. He said nothing as he followed Ursla out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

~~~

It was two days later when Crasus finally came for a visit. As usual he demanded that young Gwen wait on him, not taking no for an answer, shoving aside anyone in his way. He tossed a small bag of gold coins at a scowling Lady D, and with a smug smirk, he then stomped up the stairs to Gwen's small room to wait impatiently for her. 

Crasus was a Man of average height and a skinny build, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes. He was neither good looking, nor bad looking- he was just very nondescript. None of his family, friends, or even his fellow coworkers, would ever have suspected that the nice jovial Crasus had a mean sadistic streak, and that he took great sexual pleasure from hurting Women. The weaker, the better.

When she still hadn't arrived at the 'proper' time his anger began to rise, he started to grumble, while sitting heavily on the small simple bed. 

"Where is she?! Damn whore, making 'me' wait! I pay good money and here I wait!" he ranted, working himself up into a real rage as he pulled off his dirt-incrusted boots, his back facing the door. 

_He'd teach that little cunt a thing or two! _he thought heatedly to himself. He could feel himself harden as he thought about dominating her, hitting her, her pathetic cries as he beat her frail small body. Her plaintive pleas for mercy, begging for his forgiveness as he bruised that pale young flesh. Showing her that she was nothing! That she was his, his alone! 

_Oh yes. He'd put her back in her place_! he thought to himself, closing his eyes as rubbed his hardened erection through the rough fabric of his trousers with one of his hands. _On her back like the whore she was…she and all women. Women-- they were all whores, only good for--_"

Crasus's thoughts were interrupted as he heard the door creak open behind him, then close. If he had been paying more attention to his surroundings and not to his dark sadistic fantasies, he might have heard the heavy 'click' of the door being locked from the outside.

"There you are, you little bitch! Making ME wait, I'll teach you to make me wait--" he snarled, getting up and turning around to glare at the frightened girl.

Except it wasn't a seventeen-year-old girl standing in front of the door.

Crasus stared open-mouthed and completely dumbstruck. Instead of the cowering and waif-like form of Gwen, there was a short bearded, young Dwarf; a mad looking Dwarf. 

"What the--where's Gwen!? Who the fuck are you?!" he demanded angrily, recovering from his initial surprise, but the Dwarf ignored his words.

"I hear tell you like to hurt people, especially a mere girl-child at that," the Dwarf said in a deep rumbling voice. 

"What?! Listen, I have no quarrel with you--" 

But the Dwarf wasn't listening-- instead he calmly pulled his sleeveless shirt over his head, before tossing it on the small table by the bed. Crasus took a step back as the Dwarf moved a few steps closer.

"This be some kind of mistake--" 

But the Dwarf said nothing, just continued to glare at him with his frightening dark eyes, full of fire and blatant disgust. The play of thick powerful muscles flexed and moved just under the Dwarf's tanned skin as he began to crack his thick knuckles, one at a time. 

Now Crasus was starting to panic; he was trapped- the Dwarf stood blocking his only exit, for he knew the room's only other door, leading to an adjoining room, was always locked. He felt his heartbeat speed up as warning bells went off in his head. Hitting and beating a small Woman or girl was one thing; taking on a Dwarf was an entirely different story.

"I warn you, Dwarf! I have no--" he threaten, trying to sound calm. But once again the Dwarf ignored and interrupted him.

"Let's get started, shall we?" the Dwarf suggested, shaking his hands out before lowering his muscular compact form into a loose fighting stance, both hands now balled into large fists.

~~~

In the adjoining room next door, a small group had gathered to listen to the huge commotion coming from just on the other side of the wall. Bangs, thumps, and all sorts of violent noises continued interspersed with the occasional yell and scream. 

Eventually the ruckus died down, and someone knocked on the adjoining door three times. One of the group unlocked then opened it, revealing Gimli standing there, putting his sleeveless shirt on again.

The young Dwarf gave a big yawn, apparently not even having broken a sweat. "This Man has got to be one of the saddest fighters I have ever seen," Gimli said, shaking his head in disappointment while smoothing out his shirt.

"Figures… Would you kindly bring Master Crasus in here?" Lady D asked, stepping aside from the door to make room for him.

Gimli disappeared back into the room, and a few moments later a beaten and bloodied Crasus came literally flying though the door, to land with a crash and a loud 'Ooughf'! Gimli leisurely strolled back into the room and, closing the door behind him, walked to stand by the moaning Man lying in the middle of the floor.

Lady D, stepped forward and tossed Gimli a length of rope, which he caught. "Tie his hands," she ordered, and Gimli did as he was told, quickly tying the Man's arms behind his back.

There were three other people in the room besides the older red-haired Woman. Sitting on the bed was the long-legged Merry, her long curly black hair held away from her elegant face in a loose bun. Ursla stood next to the window; she flashed Gimli a smile before turning a piercing glare at the panting Man on the floor. Standing in the protective circle of her arms was a small thin Woman-child. Gimli immediately recognized her as the one who had been eavesdropping several days ago in the kitchen. 

She was petite, pale and willowy, with a full mane of loose wavy brown hair, and she was clad in a deep blue skirt and a sky-blue laced bodice. She was clearly frightened, near trembling as her large doe eyes watched Crasus with fear, her heart-shaped face bearing the marks of Crasus's crimes. When Gimli saw her face he felt a new flash of hot anger- Lady D and Ursla had not been exaggerating.

A large, still healing, pink scar ran from the corner of her small rosebud mouth, pulling up the side of her face in a hideous mockery of a grin. Another ran across her brow, and several smaller slashes on the left side of her delicate face had been gouged out deeply by a knife. It was obvious that she had once been truly lovely, but Crasus had viciously ruined her looks forever.

"Beg for her forgiveness, wretch!" Gimli demanded, then proceeded to grind the Man's face into the floor before yanking him up and onto his knees facing Gwen.

"You little cunt!" the Man spat, glaring at the trembling girl. "This be all your idea, wasn't it!? When I get hold of ya, I'm go--oughf!" Whatever else he was going to say was lost as Lady D calmly hiked up her long skirt and kicked him squarely in the ribs, causing him to crumple to the floor again.

"I've been waiting to do that for quite some time now!" she said cheerfully, looking at Gimli, who gave an amused snort. She calmly motioned for Gimli to pick the now wheezing Man up again. "If you would, dear?"

Gimli simply grabbed a handful of the Man's hair, forcing him again up onto his knees, causing Crasus to grimace in pain.

"Now… let's try this again, shall we?" she said sweetly, her black fan under his chin, propping his head up. "Good boy! Now apologize," she ordered, steel in her words as she stepped back, waiting expectantly. But all he did was glare at her, and she was just going to step forward to hit him in the face, when a soft voice stopped her.

"Wait!" 

All turned to look at Gwen as she stepped away from Ursla, before slowly walking over to stand in front of the glaring and bloodied Man. Her body visibly trembled and one of her thin arms wrapped around her self as if she had a chill. 

Strangely she reminded Gimli then of little Nidi, who was also very timid and soft -spoken by nature. He felt a pang of loss as he remembered his sweet-natured friend, before forcing it to the corner of his mind again. Now was not the time or place for memories.

"Why?" she asked Crasus in a whisper, lifting a trembling hand to her scarred face. 

All was quiet in the room save for the Man's heavy breathing, then a sneering smile crept over his face, the blood from his split lip and two missing teeth coloring the rest of his teeth pink and red.

"Because I could," he said finally, even giving a shrug of his shoulders as if it were no big deal. 

Little Gwen's body went perfectly still, the whites of her eyes growing, and seeing this Crasus gave a chuckle. The chuckle was apparently the last straw.

"I HATE YOU!!!" she screamed as she launched herself at him, slapping him with all her might. That seemed to open the floodgates and she attacked him with a barrage of scratches and slaps, even kicks, all the time screaming a litany of "I hate you!", over and over. 

Crasus tried to move away from her attack but Gimli's iron grip on his hair kept him from doing so. Eventually she began to wear herself out, then Ursla stepped forward to pull the sobbing girl away. Gwen immediately turned and buried her red and tear-stained face in the older Woman's chest, holding her in a crushing grip. Crasus definitely wasn't smiling anymore, and Gimli made a point of shoving his face into the floor, before stepping back.

"Come on, Luv. Lets go get some tea and clean you up, while Miss D and Gimli take care of this filth," Ursla said, looking down her nose in contempt at the moaning, bloodied and scratched Man, while calmly rubbing the sobbing Gwen's back. 

Gimli watched as she led Gwen from the room, their footsteps disappearing down the hall. Lady D waited until their footfalls were completely gone, before hiking up her thick skirts over a long shapely leg. She took out a knife from a leather garter belt that was strapped to her leg, before letting the skirts fall back in place.

Gimli, hearing some movement behind him, turned around just in time to see Lady D calmly walk over to the cursing Crasus-- stepping over his back, she grabbed a hold of his hair and yanked his head sharply back. Crasus only managed to get out an angry squawk of surprise before she slit his throat from ear to ear, his eyes bulging obscenely before she dropped his head, letting it fall with a loud thump. 

"Finish your enemies or they will only come back, all the more vengeful," She said simply, glaring down at the still twitching Man. Her words hung in the air and all remained quiet, except for an occasional soft gurgle from the sprawled body. For a moment, no one moved, then she bent down to calmly wipe her knife off on his shirt, before putting it back.

Merry watched with wide shocked eyes from her seat on the bed, a hand clamped over her mouth, her chocolate brown skin growing pale. Gimli only stared, giving a few blinks at what he'd seen, but otherwise felt nothing. The Man got exactly what was coming to him.

A large pool of blood slowly spread under the now dead Man, but Lady D simply stepped over the body before it could get on her shoes. She then calmly held out an elegant hand, beckoning Merry to her.

"Merry, my Love… Come, let us go." 

Merry silently got off the bed and quickly came to her side, giving the body on the floor a wide berth, then took her hand before they both walked past Gimli to the door. The older Women paused, turning to look back at the Dwarf, motioning with her other hand for Gimli to follow as well.

"Come, Master Dwarf. There is still work to be done. Not to mention disposing of this… refuse," she said, before leading Merry out the door, their heavy skirts swishing behind them.

As he followed the two statuesque Women down the hall, Gimli couldn't help wonder just how many times the headmistress of this bordello had done this. 

Within a half-hour, the floor was cleaned and all the bloody rags burned in the cooking fire in the kitchen, destroying all evidence of foul play. Meanwhile Crasus's body had been dumped in an alleyway; when he was found, it would no doubt be thought that he was just another victim of a mugging or robbery. 

It was anyone's guess if it had been justice, but at the very least young Gwen would never have to worry about Crasus again.

Now with his part of their bargain fulfilled, Gimli waited for Lady D to fulfill her half of the deal…

Well hope you enjoyed….

Next part coming soon!

Forgive me, but I just love the idea of Dwarven culture being "Female dominant", and that mindset carrying over some when they deal with females from other races. I also really like the idea of Gimli simply adoring Women, being very honorable but seeing them as complete equals. 

(1.) Being a Wizard, it only makes sense that Gandalf would want to know more about the other types of magic out in Middle-earth. Keep an eye on the competition.

(2) I may do a sequel fic, depending upon the amount of interest I get. Dealing about Gimli's debt, and what happened when he was with Lady Razel and her family.

(3.) Yes, he's a human 'Dwarf', suffering from the syndrome that causes 'dwarfism' in humans. But he's not a "true" Dwarf, like the Dwarves in LOTR. 

(4.) Yes, I got the idea from the movie. When Sam, Merry, and Pip burst through the door at the Inn, trying to come to Frodo's rescue, from the mysterious Strider.


	7. Beasts

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 6)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for strong language, violence, sexuality and disturbing imagery)

Warnings: Angst, violence, cursing, gore, and violence, violence, violence! With a dash of madness. If you have a weak stomach you might want to read with caution!

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few original characters, Gimli, Gandalf, and other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli while he and Thorin's company were away on their quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli? Then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is a Book-version, Not movie-version.

A big 'thank you' to everyone who left reviews and emailed me, doomo arigatoo gozaimasu ^_^ !

And another huge 'thank you' to the lovely Little My, for beta-reading! Everyone go read her fics and bug her for more ~_^ !

~~~

Beasts.

~~~

It was late, past midnight, as two figures walked down one of the dark hallways in 'The House of the Red Blossoms'; luckily the brothel catered to clients any time of the day or night.

"You're so late! It's been over two weeks--I didn't think you were coming! Forgot all about me, I thought!" said one of the figures in a pouting tone, causing the other to chuckle.

She wore a long skirt of rich brown and a dark red bodice with no under-blouse, leaving her smooth arms and shoulders open to view. She was an attractive Woman, with an hourglass figure and pale skin that contrasted with her long mane of auburn ringlets. Her large brown eyes, full-lipped mouth and the light dusting of freckles over her heart-shaped face gave her a look of seeming innocence, which couldn't have been farther from the truth. For Ruby was a street-wise Woman and knew exactly how to use her looks to her full advantage.

"Can't get enough of me, eh?" the other laughed, allowing Ruby to lead him down the hallway, watching as she flashed him a pout over her shoulder. 

Tir was an average-sized Man, in good shape, and could be counted as quite comely. With his dark hair that just brushed his shoulders, his gray eyes and charming smile, all set in a bit of a baby-face, one would never have guessed what lay just under the Man's handsome exterior. 

"I got a bit held up doing something. Men's work--you wouldn't understand. But don't you be worrying none about me stayin' away. Not with those tits and rump here waiting for me!" he continued with a lecherous smirk, giving her posterior a squeeze.

"Tir! Ya beast!" she giggled, smacking his hand away, then playfully evading his arms as he made a grab for her. 

She ran ahead of him then, laughing the entire way. Tir growled and gave chase, and she didn't get far before he caught her around the waist. She gave a giggling squeal when he buried his face in her hair, licking her pale neck as one of his hands crept up her chest and began fondling one of her breasts. 

He never saw the grimace of disgust that flashed over her face, before the smile and the false giggles returned.

"Hee, hee, Tir! You're so bad!" she playfully admonished him, subtlety forcing his hand off her breast.

"Can't help it--Valar! I could fuck ya right here!" he said between sucking and licking her neck. He gave an annoyed growl when she managed to slip from his grasp again, and watched as she walked backwards away from him before stopping at a particular door. 

"I have a surprise for you," she said with a secretive wink, her hand on the doorknob.

"Oh? And what is this… 'surprise'?" he asked as he followed her, not really caring about the answer while again grabbing hold of her and trying to get a kiss. 

He gave another frustrated growl when she managed to squirm out of his grasp and evade his kiss.

"It's a surprise, silly!" she said with a laugh, leaning seductively against the door. "Come, have a look!"

With that she opened the creaky door, motioning for him to look inside. His curiosity sparked, even though his mind was on other more pressing urges, he looked into the dark room. 

The windowless room was small and sparsely furnished with a single bed, a large chest at the foot of the bed and two small tables. The room was dark save for a single lit candle sitting on the table by the bed, and a small fire in the brick fireplace on the wall opposite the door. Its flickering flames illuminated the place in a soft orange glow as deep shadows jumped and danced. 

Yet that was not where Tir's attention was focused. For sitting seductively on the bed with her long legs crossed was Ursla, her blue-gray eyes watching him eagerly with anticipation that he assumed was for him (and he was right, in a way). 

He looked back at Ruby, who only smiled, undoing the top laces of her red bodice as she leaned against the open door beside him. 

"Both of you?" he asked, his eyebrows raised, looking between the two Women.

"That be right. Two for the price o' one," Ursla said in a husky voice, from the bed. "Now… come over here." She beckoned to him, gracefully crooking a long finger for him to come closer. 

Tir flashed Ruby a lustful grin, before eagerly stepping into the room, his arousal clearly evident as he began to hurriedly undo his belt. His hungry gaze was directed at the still smiling Ursla, who slowly uncrossed her legs as she leaned back on the bed. 

He took no notice when one of her hands slid under a pillow that was sitting oddly in the middle of the otherwise neatly made bed.

He had just finished undoing his belt, when he jumped in surprise as the door behind him suddenly slammed shut, followed by someone hurriedly locking it from the outside. 

"What the--!" he yelled, whirling around in surprise.

Tir immediately went for the door, trying the handle before giving it a few vicious yanks, even though he knew it to be locked.

"Alright, no games, Ruby! Open the door!" He paused, waiting for the door to open, but only heard silence. After waiting a few more moments and still hearing nothing his temper began to flare.

"Open this door! Ruby! RUBY! You open this door right now, you hear me!? Ruby! RUBY, you fucking bitch! OPEN THIS DOOR!!!" he yelled, now pounding on the door as he tried the handle a few more times before finally giving up. 

"Alright whore! What are you two playing at--Whoa now!" He had turned around to demand answers from Ursla, only to find the dark-haired Woman now standing next to the bed, a long dagger pointed at him.

"Ursla! Whoa now! What's this all about?" he said, putting on his best disarming smile, his hands up in mock surrender.

"Shut your mouth! Ya…ya piece of troll shit!" Ursla snapped, her red-painted lips pulled into a snarl, her dagger still pointed at him.

"Ursla--Sweetness, come now. Put down the knife. This is must be some kind of mis--"

"I know," she said simply, cutting him off. "I know about Black Hollow. My sister!" she hissed, watching him with enraged and wary eyes. 

At the mention of Black Hollow, Tir went still and something dark flashed across his's face, his hands dropping back to his sides. Ursla felt a cold shiver run up her spine as she watched his charming smile immediately disappear into a frightening mask of cold calculation, the room's temperature seeming to drop several degrees. 

"How do you know about that?" he asked, his flat tone making it a demand. 

"Someone survived," Ursla answered, forcing herself to sound calm.

"Damn! Those idiot goblins can't be trusted to do anything right!" Tir snarled to himself, before turning his attention back to the raven-haired Woman. His smile from before came back to his face, only now it was truly sinister. 

"Oh well, nothing to be done about it now…except clean up some loose ends," he said in a charming voice as he began to advance towards her.

"Why!?" she hissed, backing away as her heart raced in her chest. "Why betray your own kind!?

"Don't be a fool! You're a whore, you know exactly 'why'. Why do you lay on your back with your legs splayed for any Man?" he sneered at her with a laugh.

"YA FOUL BEAST! Ya helped murder all those innocents! Betrayed your own kind for GOLD!?" Ursla spat at him, her teeth bared as she trembled with barely suppressed rage. 

"Of course gold. All the gold one could ever want. Sounds like a good payoff to me," he said with a smug smirk.

"How could ya!? Slaughterin' an entire town for--" But Tir interrupted her tirade with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

"So? Who will care about some miserable little coal mining town with a load of no-name peasants and a bunch of dirty Dwarves, eh?" 

"And me sister and her family?!" Ursla demanded, the dagger in her white-knuckled grip trembling as Tir still advanced.

"An old whore and her vermin offspring," he told her with a smile and a shrug.

"Valar stab your eyes! You--YOU MONSTER!!! Coming in here, speakin' ta me! Having a grand ol' time, knowing what was happening there-- to all of them!" she hissed at him, tears of anger now streaking down her face.

"So? So you decided to lure me here, to kill me? Don't make me laugh!" he said with a nasty chuckle. 

"You know it will take more then a mere 'whore' with a pocketknife to do me in," he laughed while strolling casually to stand by the bed, watching as Ursla backed cautiously away, her dagger still pointed at him. 

She knew his words, no matter how maddening, were true. Even unarmed, he could easily overpower and disarm her if she was not careful. 

Tir let out a theatrical sigh of disappointment, the orange glow of the flickering flames with the deep shadows of the room giving a sinister look to his otherwise pleasant face. 

"I don't know how you found out, but I'll sadly have to slit that pale neck of yours now," he said, giving her an apologetic look, like he was begging her pardon for some trivial thing and not for the taking of her life.

"Nothing personal…but I can't have you running that pretty mouth of yours," he said with a little shrug while coming around the bed towards her, a menacing smile now on his face. Ursla by now had backed away until she stood by the fireplace, her back against the wall beside it. 

"But before I do…why don't you tell me where I can find this 'insightful' friend of yours?" he asked, no doubt planning to silence them as well. 

"Why don't you be askin' him yourself?" she said, as an equally vindictive smile suddenly spread over her face, her dagger lowering to her side. This sudden change in her behavior gave him pause, and he halted in the middle of the room. 

"Did ya hear that, Luv? Someone wants to 'ave a word with ya," she cooed. Tear streaks still shone wetly on her cheeks as she moved to look at something behind him, by the door, before turning her gaze back to the now confused Tir. 

"You'll be dyin' ta meet him," she smiled coyly. The dancing flames lit half of her face with an eerie glow, casting the other half in deep shadow; suddenly she seemed strangely menacing as she watched him with pained and vengeful eyes.

Tir felt icy fingers race up his spine as all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He whipped around in the direction of the door, fists up in a defensive stance, cursing that he no longer had his sword at his side. 

'The House of the Red Blossoms' had few rules, but one of them was that no weapons were allowed in the brothel. Lady D strictly enforced the rule; all weapons were to be checked at the door. No exceptions.

The room went deathly quiet, except for the occasional pop or hiss from the small fire, as Tir's gray eyes scanned the room for this 'him'. At first he saw nothing but the locked door, the empty bed, the small table with the still lit candle, the fire causing the many dark shadows of the room to jump and flicker. But then he saw something…

Deep in a shadowed corner of the room by the door, he noticed what looked like two sparks of flame. At first he didn't know what he was looking at, then a deep dread seized his heart. He realized that what he was seeing was the room's small fire being reflected in a pair of eyes that watched him silently from the depths of the shadow.

It was then he heard the sound of movement, as something shifted in the recesses of the corner and the owner of those frightening eyes began to move forward. He watched with baited breath as a Dwarf appeared from the darkness, the flickering flames of the fire casting sparks off his dark copper hair held back from his face in a thick ponytail, and the thick crescent blades of the two axes he held.

He sucked air in sharply through his clenched teeth, the blood draining from his face as he stared at the Dwarf as if seeing a ghost. Which was not far from the truth. 

He remembered this Dwarf; Grim, Grimly, Gimli--or something of that nature. The copper-haired Dwarf was always with that loud insulting one--the Dwarf with the amber-colored eyes, the one that was always cracking jokes, always insulting him and the other wagon drivers. 

He remembered watching this Dwarf and the other one fighting and cursing like mad as the goblins clapped them in chains, then dragged them kicking and screaming down into the bowels of the mine, with all the other Men and Dwarves. Down into the mine that would be their tomb. 

He remembered going with Rowell sometimes to watch the mine owner gloat over the prisoners, feeding them lies about their loved ones so they would stay passive and mine the coal. He caught occasional glimpses of them later, when he was not delivering the coal, chained with the other Dwarves down in the lower tunnels, covered in soot, pickaxe in hand, mining the coal with all the other exhausted prisoners. He'd watched with amusement as the goblins and orcs tormented them as they worked or just beat them mercilessly for the sheer fun of it. 

__

How could he have escaped the fire!?

"You… it's not possible! You're all dead!" he hissed in frightened denial, all bravado from before gone as he took a step back. He was no fool-- he had seen this one in action when he would spar occasionally with his amber-eyed friend or one of the other Dwarves, and he knew he didn't stand a chance. 

The Dwarf tilted his head a bit, as if not understanding his words, before he spoke. "Not all," he answered simply, in a deep rumbling voice. 

With those few words from the apparition, Tir was jolted into frantic action. In desperation, the Man suddenly lunged for Ursla, hoping to use her as a shield and take her weapon. But Ursla was no fool, and had prepared herself in case he tried just such a tactic. 

Tir was reaching out to try and snag Ursla by her long black hair, when he gave a yell of pain as Ursla's dagger slashed him deeply across the face, from right cheek, over his nose to just under his left eye. 

Ducking out of his reach, she dashed across the room, over the bed and to the door, while the Man crashed against the wall where she had stood just moments before, empty handed and clutching his now bloody face. Gimli now stood between them in the middle of the room.

"The town--the hostages…the fire! Why!?" Gimli demanded, advancing on the Man when Tir finally looked up again.

Tir watched the Dwarf stalk closer, his heart pounding in his ears, the still bleeding cut across his face painting the lower half of his face red. In a last desperate move, Tir decided that he would not go down without a fight. If he could surprise the Dwarf and just get a hold of one of those axes…it was a long shot but he saw no other option at the moment. 

With that thought Tir suddenly rushed the Dwarf, trying to catch him off guard; it was a foolish plan at best.

He hadn't taken two steps in Gimli's direction when the Dwarf knocked him back with the back of one of his axes, catching the Man in the side. The blow was not forceful enough to brake bones or cause major damage, just enough to stop his attack and give him something to think about. 

Tir crashed back with a yell; he stayed on the ground for several moments before slowly getting up, using the wall for support. Gimli calmly put both of his axes back in their holsters at his sides as Tir watched warily, still leaning heavily on the wall. Then the Man gave a sneer, glaring down his nose at the Dwarf, who now stood in front of him.

"I'll tell you nothing! Mud rat --Oughff!!" Whatever else he was going to say was lost as Gimli punched him in the stomach, and even before Tir could double over clutching his abdomen, his head flew back as Gimli then punched him in the face, knocking the Man back against the wall.

He would have slid to the floor in a daze if the Dwarf hadn't roughly seized him by the front of his tunic, hauling him up again. Tir flinched back as Gimli shoved his face in front of his own.

"Wrong answer! Now speak! Or I'll start breaking your hands…" Gimli snarled, and the burning look in his almond-shaped eyes told Tir that he wouldn't hesitate to carry out the threat. 

Faced with this, the last of Tir's bravery fled, and now he found all he really wanted was his life. Nothing else really mattered anymore. His comrades, the gold, his pride, his dignity-- it all no longer mattered. Just his life.

"I did nothing-- I killed no one! I only drove the carts!" he denied, the right side of his face already beginning to swell and bruise from Gimli's blow. 

"LIAR!!! Rowell hired you and all the other wagon drivers! You knew of his intentions before ya ever came ta Black Hollow!" Gimli bellowed angrily, disgusted that this was the same Man just moments before who had been casually smiling, about to kill Ursla as if it were no great thing. And here he was now, white-faced, bloodied and cowering. It made Gimli want to vomit.

"LYING FILTH!!" Ursla screeched. Tir looked to her, having forgotten all about her, just in time to yelp as one of her shoes bounced off his forehead, which she had taken off and thrown in her anger. It was soon followed by the second, which unfortunately missed.

"Ya knew! And ya helped those monsters! You BASTARD! TRAITOR!!!

"Coward!" Gimli hissed, agreeing with her. "Now speak! The fire in the mine, the hostages--why!?"

"I- it was all Rowell's idea! People were starting to talk in the surrounding villages, it was…they'd find out what was going on. Rowell--he was rolling in gold by then. So he came up with a plan. W-he--he waited till most of the goblins and orcs were gone--" 

"Gone ta slaughter and burn the surroundin' villages, like Shiprock, ya mean!" Ursla spat from across the room. 

Tir's wary eyes flicked momentarily to her with a flash of annoyance and contempt. Seeing this, Gimli made a point of lifting the Man bodily off the floor and slamming him into the wall.

"It was the perfect time for Rowell's plan!" Tir continued hurriedly, looking back to Gimli. 

"What plan!?" the Dwarf demanded as Ursla came to stand behind him, glaring over his broad shoulder at the white-faced Tir, her dagger still in hand.

"He didn't want to share the gold--and he knew the goblins would turn on us. 

"There were so many of 'em-- they'd already killed and eaten everything. They'd finished the last of the hostages, and were already turning on each other--w-we knew they'd be turning on us soon. So Rowell came up with a plan--a way for us to keep all the gold and get rid of most of the goblins and…" Tir trailed off, giving a nervous swallow, his heart thundering in his chest.

"And what!?" Gimli demanded, giving the Man a vicious shake.

"An--and get rid of all the witnesses," he continued again, his voice audibly trembling as he stared at the fuming Dwarf with wide nervous eyes.

"H-he knew most of the goblins and orcs would be in the mine and t-those that were left guarding the town would be hiding away in their dark holes… So he decided to collapse the mine during the day. Someone would create a distraction while someone else carried out Rowell's plan…but his first plan took too long," he told them, his voice cracking every now and then.

As Gimli stood there listening, still holding the babbling wagon driver, his memory suddenly jumped back to the mine, walking up the dark tunnel with Hanar, Ulfr, Svior, and little Nidi. The sound of their heavy footsteps and the clinking of their heavy chains echoing around the dark tunnel as they trudged. The heavy and coarse iron collars digging into their thick necks…

~~~

"_Who would want to damage one of the mine's support beams?" _Nidi asked from his ever present place beside Svior.

"_I don't know, but whoever it was knew exactly where to damage it, and knows that if that section goes it will collapse the entire mine," _Hanar answered with a growl.

_"Maybe it was one of the orcs that damaged it," _suggested Svior, as he gave Nidi a playful bump with his shoulder (which Nidi returned), not really paying attention to what was being said.

"_They wouldn't still be down here if they planned on collapsing the mine on us. Also the damage to the wood was not from a Goblin blade, but the clean cuts of a good axe," _Hanar said, shaking his head.

"_Then it couldn't have been one of us_. _All we have is our picks and shovels. Not to mention none of us is that daft,"_ said Gimli, as he steered around the rotting remains of some unidentified creature on the floor. 

"_But how could someone damage it without being caught by the orcs, or at least being seen by one of us_?" asked Ulfr, his lip curling in disgust as he and the others stepped over a half eaten dead dog (orcs were not picky in the least about what they ate). 

"_Whoever it was must have snuck in and done it when all the goblins were fighting over that gold coin they found,_" said Hanar as he stroked his normally silver (now black) beard in thought. 

"_So that huge fight was over a gold coin_?" Svior signed in disbelief.

"_That's right, you should have seen them. You would have thought it was a couple of mithril ingots, the way they tore at each other,_" Hanar signed back, his eyes narrowing in disgust at the memory as he led them up the dark tunnel.

"_It doesn't surprise me one bit. Greedy beasts, may their eyes rot out of their empty heads_!" growled Gimli, hawking a spit on an unconscious orc, a broken bottle on the floor next to it, as they walked past.

"_Who would want to collapse the mine? If it's not one of one of the prisoners or the orcs, maybe it's Rowell?_" signed Nidi, as he twisted his earlobe in thought. The tunnel had widened enough so that the four no longer walked single file; Hanar was in the lead, with Gimli and Ulfr right behind, followed by Svior and Nidi.

"_I don't know…Rowell is making a ton of gold with this mine. Why would he want to destroy it? Where's the profit in that?" _Gimli asked as they continued to follow the grumbling Hanar. 

~~~

The realization struck him. _Of course_! he thought, cursing himself for being so blind. _Nidi, you'd been right all along! _

The gold coin that caused the huge fight with all the goblins and orcs was the distraction! So someone could take an axe to one of the mine's main support beams without being caught by the goblins or being seen by one of the prisoners!

Rowell being the mine owner knew which exact beam would collapse the mine. But it took too long to wait for the mine to collapse…he must have realized that someone would notice, like Hanar, and they might have enough time to fix it. 

So he had to do something else…something else that would get rid of the goblins, the evidence in the mines, and all the witnesses to what he had done… 

"So he set fire to the mine!" Gimli suddenly finished for the Man, causing both Ursla and Tir to look at him. His gaze turned inward, remembering all the lives lost to the unforgiving flames, before finally returning to the present and the pale-faced Man he held against the wall, Ursla's warm presence behind him.

"A-Aye, He got Hamin to go down and set it up…when the mine blew, we made our escape with the gold. We'd be long gone by the time the goblins noticed," Tir finished with a jerky nod of his head, his blue eyes still glued to Gimli, who glared at him with contempt and disgust. 

For long moments no one said anything, only the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional pop of the fire breaking the silence in the small dark room. 

Then Ursla stepped closer, putting a sweating and trembling hand on Gimli's back, and leaned over his shoulder until her pretty and flushed face was but mere inches from Tir's pale and bloodied one. He turned his nervous and weary gaze to her and felt another chill run up his spine. For her blue-gray eyes were nothing but chips of cold ice, seeming to look right through him

"Tir? Be a dear and be tellin' us where Rowell and the rest of ya friends are, yes?" she cooed sweetly. Her face remained an emotionless mask, and that for some reason seemed to scare Tir more than if she was screaming at him.

He remained silent for a moment, simply staring at her, until Gimli shifted and subtly tightened his hold as a warning for Tir to answer her question. Tir looked between the two and quickly decided to answer, being not particularly loyal to anyone at the moment, save himself.

"They're all camped out in the old Ash forest, on the east road, towards Bree. Just follow the road until it hits a sharp bend, c-can't miss it. But Rowell…he's already--"

But by this time both Gimli and Ursla were no longer paying attention. Gimli dropped him to the floor before he could finish, and stepped away-- the Dwarf and the Woman cared only about the whereabouts of Rowell's and the other wagon drivers.

Tir now sat on the floor, looking up at the two as they both stared down at him with emotionless faces. Only their eyes, with the reflection of the fire's flames dancing in them, betrayed their turbulent thoughts. The orange glow of the fire and the dark flickering shadows of the small room seemed to transform them both into strange and sinister beings. 

"Anything else, Ursla?" Gimli asked, breaking the deathly silence that had fallen over the room. His gaze never left the frightened Man on the floor, who looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Aye!" she said, coming to stand over Tir and glaring down her nose at him. It was hard for her to believe that this was the same Man that had planned to murder her with only a shrug and a smug smile just a short while ago. 

She leaned down, getting a little closer to him before spitting right in his face. 

"Valar burn your soul!" she hissed at him, watching him flinch. Then with a lightning quick move she stabbed him in the shoulder. 

He let out a yell of pain, clutching his bleeding shoulder as she stepped back holding her now bloody dagger in her hand, her red-painted lips pulled back in a snarl. Gimli only watched quietly from a few feet away, until Ursla gave him a curt nod, letting him know she was through.

With that Gimli walked forward, then knelt in front of the battered and bleeding Man.

Tir looked up from his wounded shoulder, grimacing with the pain, just in time to see Gimli kneel in front of him, before a broad hand suddenly seized him by the face. 

He let out a panicked scream that was muffled by the hand now clamped over his face, when he felt another broad hand grip him by the back of his head. Tir felt as if his head were caught in an iron vise, as he continued to scream and thrash desperately, kicking and clawing at the Dwarf, but nothing worked.

Ursla watched dispassionately nearby, drinking in the sight of the Man's panicked, desperate, and altogether futile attempts of escape. 

A sudden loud crack filled the air, then the room fell silent once more…

~~~

There was a flurry of activity as Gimli quickly walked down the hall heading for the stairs, his heavy footsteps accompanied by the creak of leather and the occasional clink of the three axes now attached to his belt. His broad muscular form exuded a palpable aura of menace, as a fire burned in his rich-brown eyes.

Apparently what had happened in the room, where he had left Tir's remains- and Ursla, had not gone unnoticed. Many of the brothel's residents, who were still up at this hour, made sure to stay out of the brooding Dwarf's way; some watched in confusion, whispering amongst themselves, others just gave a curious look before continuing on with their own activities. But a surprising number watched him walk by with knowing eyes as they leaned in their doorways.

"Gimli! What's going on?" called someone from behind him.

"Aye! What be all the ruckus?" asked another, followed by the sound of bare feet running down the wooden floor of the hallway.

Gimli paused at the top of the stairs and turning he saw young Gwen and Raden hurrying up to him. Gwen stood at about the same height as Gimli; Raden, a head taller. Both had clearly been asleep mere moments before, Raden clad only in a pair of hastily donned trousers and Gwen in her simple sleeping shirt. 

"Nothing ta worry about. I'm just off ta finish something," he said cryptically, flashing them both a winning smile that did not reach his eyes, before quickly descending the narrow stairs that led to the kitchen.

"Finish? Finish what? I don't understand!" Gwen called after him. She and Raden were just about to follow him down, when they both heard Ursla coming down the hall.

"Gwen--Luv, ya get back to bed! This ain't nothing ta worry about. That be going for ya too Raden!" she said ,coming up to them.

They could see she was quite flushed, hurriedly wiping her hands on a noticeably blood-stained rag. Neither teen moved as both stared at the bloody rag in her hands. Following their gaze, Ursla quickly hid the rag behind her back, before pointing to the directions of their respective rooms with her free hand. 

"Off with ya! Back ta bed!" she ordered them. Gwen began to slowly do as she was told, but Raden had other ideas.

"I'm going downstairs!" Raden declared, jabbing his thumb at his narrow chest. "If Gimli is going to be tossing another one of the rowdy drunkards out a window again, I want ta watch! 

"Beside, you're not my mother! You can't tell me what to do!" he snorted in defiance, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Is that the way it's gonna be now?" Ursla asked, one eyebrow cocked as she glared at him.

"Aye!"

He let out a squawk as a fuming Ursla grabbed him by the ear and proceeded to drag him to his room, yelping the whole way. Gwen trailed nervously after them, looking occasionally back at the stairs. 

~~~

When Gimli stepped into the kitchen, he was a bit surprised to see three other people there.

Sitting at the table with his long legs crossed, casually smoking a curved pipe, was Draco. Clad only in a dove-gray silk robe, his long dark hair falling around his slim shoulders and down his back, his aristocratic featured face was highlighted by his coal-lined eyes and burgundy painted lips. 

Gimli had decided, after a few days of staying and working at this place, that while the exotic Merry still remained one of the most beautiful Women he had ever come to know, Draco was definitely one of the most beautiful Men(1). He caught himself many a time looking at them, which seem to please them both, and give Ursla all the more reason to constantly tease him. 

Though Gimli did think the makeup Draco wore a bit odd, but that was just his opinion.

The flame-haired Lady D stood statuesquely at the head of the long table, her hair done up in its ever present bun. Her dark forest green clothes with her black shawl contrasted with her pale skin, making her face seeming carved from alabaster.

Standing next to her was the auburn-haired Ruby, who Gimli thought would be very attractive if not for her shrewish personality, that blessedly none of her clients ever saw. If she had a tail it would have been lashing back and forth with her clear agitation.

"You killed him, didn't you?" Ruby snapped, glaring holes through him, hands on her ample hips.

"What do you think?" he asked back flippantly. Giving the fuming Woman a cool glance with one eyebrow cocked, as he proceeded to take out his hair tie and refasten his hair back into a long tail. She gave him a scowl before turning to Lady D next to her. 

Gimli had found out early on that Ruby had taken an immediate disliking to him, being a Dwarf and all, but most especially upon finding out that he was also a close friend of Ursla and her family. In fact she was one of only a few that disliked him here, making a point of ignoring him or snubbing him at all available opportunities. Though Gimli could truly have cared less, making a point of feigning deafness when she demanded he do something.

"I want compensation, D! Tir was one of my best payin' regulars!" she demanded, her pretty face flushed with her agitation

"Ruby, we will deal with this later, as agreed," Lady D told her calmly.

"No, I want ta deal with it now!" 

"Ruby, dear, do us all a favor and kindly shut your face," the long-haired Man said, speaking up for the first time that morning, before taking another puff on his pipe.

"You shut up, Draco! You didn't lose one of your regulars!" she snapped, turning her furious glare on him. But he only rolled his eyes and gave her a rather rude hand gesture, which he still manage to somehow make look graceful.

"Bitch!" Ruby hissed at him with a glare of pure venom, as she visibly bristled.

"Cow!" he hissed right back, before purposefully blowing some smoke in her direction.

"Ladies!" D called, holding up her two hands, calmly halting them before they could continue. Both reluctantly did so, and confident that there would be no other outbursts, D turned her full attention to the smaller Woman standing next to her.

"Ruby, we will deal with your compensation later," she said again, though there was an undercurrent of steel to her words this time, leaving no room for argument. 

Ruby looked as if she wanted to say more, but after catching the piercing glint in the older Woman's eyes she reluctantly backed down. She made a point of shooting both Draco and Gimli a fierce glare before storming out of the kitchen heading for the outer rooms, her heavy skirt swishing behind her.

Lady D watched her go before turning her attention to Gimli, who was looking around the kitchen for a bucket and some extra rags.

"Ready to go already, I see?" she asked him, watching him look up from his searching around in the kitchen cupboards.

"Aye, I just need to take care of the--"

"Go, Master Dwarf," Lady D said, waving him off, her long black fan in hand. "We will take care of Tir."

"My thanks, Lady D," he said, getting up and giving her a bow, a bit surprised at her offer. 

She gave him a nod before turning her attention to the elegant Man sitting at the table, who had just put out his pipe. 

"Draco, go get Sam. We have some garbage to dispose of."

"Oh, all right," he said with a sigh, before getting up. He gave Gimli a wink and a smile as he passed him, before sauntering out one of the many entrances, a pronounced swing to his narrow hips.

Just then Ursla came huffing down the stairs, her hair put up in a hastily done bun. 

"Gimli! There ya are! Did ya find the bucket?" she asked, catching sight of him standing near one of the side cabinets. But before he could answer her, Lady D did.

"It's not here. Mavis left it in Pearl's room last night… she has quite the hangover, I hear," she said, walking up to the surprised dark-haired Woman. "With luck she's done with it by now, so why don't you go get it? I'm sending Sam up in a moment to help you." 

"T-Thank you Miss D," Ursla said, before a worried look stole over her face. She turned to Gimli, who had also come to stand by her. 

"I guess this means you're leaving?" she said in more of a statement than a question.

"Aye," he answered simply, giving her a small smile. 

Ursla bit her bottom lip, clearly not liking the idea of him going to confront Rowell alone; in fact since they had come up with their plan, this had been the one part of it that they had fought the hardest on. Their arguments had become so heated that they had been heard throughout the brothel, but no matter how hard she fought him on it, she knew that there was not really any other way. 

"Ya be careful! Ya hear me?!" she said, giving him a crushing hug and a peck on each cheek before stepping back. She then reached up and gave one of his thick forelocks a sharp tug.

"Ow! Ursla!?" Gimli yelped, shooting her a glare, which she returned just as fiercely. 

Lady D watched this with one elegant eyebrow cocked. _Interesting, _she thought to herself.

"Don't ya even think about gettin' 'urt! Ya 'ere me!? Or ya be in big trouble! Ya hear?!" she yelled at him, her hands on her hips, before suddenly giving him another crushing hug.

Gimli returned the hug, gently patting her back, looking a bit confused. "Ursla--"

But before he could say anything else she pulled away and all but ran out of the kitchen, before quickly ascending the narrow stairs, hoping that no one saw her tears or the anguished look on her face.

The kitchen was quiet as the two remaining beings still looked to where the raven-haired Woman had disappeared. Then with a sigh the Dwarf turned and made his way out of the kitchen to the main door of the brothel, a new determination in his dark eyes.

He had just reached the door and opened it, and was in the process of stepping through it when a voice called out from behind him.

"Gimli?" He paused in the doorway, but did not turn to look back at her. 

"It won't bring them back, you know…killing this Rowell and those Men," Lady D said, gliding silently up behind him. 

"I know…yet I can't…Ulfr, Shala, Hanar--all the others. I…I must do this!" he hissed desperately.

"Then do what you must…but I warn you. Don't let this consume you, Dwarf," she said simply, watching him with an impassive face, though if one had looked they would have been surprised to see genuine compassion shining in her normally cold storm-gray eyes. "You tread a dangerous path." 

He said nothing, still framed by the doorway, his dark eyes staring out at nothing as the first light of the rising sun peeked out over the dark rooftops, turning the gathering clouds above red and gold. D took notice of the red sky, taking it for the warning it was; a storm was coming. 

Then without a word, Gimli began to walk away. Lady D now stood in the doorway, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders to ward against the early morning chill. She watched him walk away down the nearly deserted street, his deep copper hair a shocking splash of color standing out in the otherwise dark and drab scene, before he eventually disappeared down an alley.

"Beware the road of Vengeance…for it be a lonely and short one," she said quietly to herself, wondering if he was ever going to come back.

~~~

It was late in the afternoon; the sky was overcast, the dark clouds heavy with rain, and a chill was in the air. In the forest below, a balding Man walked down a well-trodden road, heading for Ocendade. 

He took no notice of the threatening weather or the dark forest to either side of the road, completely lost in his own thoughts, his two beloved dogs trotting obediently at his heels. 

Both dogs stood about hip high to the Man, with short bristly tan-colored coats. They were large muscular animals, with broad powerful muzzles, short floppy ears, and thin tails (2.). Both had studded leather collars about their thick necks; their breed was used mainly in guarding and hunting of large animals, such as elk, bears or wolves. 

The Man himself was rather nondescript with the exception of his thinning hair and having a crooked nose--no doubt it had been badly broken many times over the years. His dusty boots crunched loudly with every step he took, the sound companioned by the two trotting dogs' constant panting.

"That Hobbit-chewing piece of snot! Who the hell does Fouhst think he is… Taking over, thinkin' he's the leader now, splitting up the gold as he pleases… Why am I the one that has to get the ale!? I ain't no servant! Why I should…" He kept muttering to himself, glaring down at the dirt and gravel under his feet, lost in his ranting while he stomped down the road towards Ocendade.

It was just then that the two large dogs suddenly stopped, their panting immediately ceasing as their heads came up to stare at something. The fur on their backs visibly began to bristle as they both lowered their heads and growled at something further up the road. 

The sound of the growls shook the Man out of his belligerent thoughts and he stopped, looking in confusion at the two agitated dogs flanking him before following where their attention was directed. He felt his gut clench as his instincts began to scream at him to run the other way as fast as he could.

Standing in the middle of the road in front of them, about ten yards away, was a Dwarf. That in itself would not have been particularly strange, except he recognized this Dwarf, and this particular Dwarf was supposed to be dead. Very dead.

The Dwarf watched him emotionlessly, its short-bearded face seemingly made of stone, its flashing eyes boring into the Man. He backed up a step, his heart racing, his grimy hand going to the handle of his sword. The growls of the two dogs intensified as the Dwarf calmly began to walk forward. 

Surprisingly the Dwarf, with his frighteningly expressionless face, still hadn't taken out any of its axes that hung on its thick belt. The Man stared open-mouthed before quickly recovering some of his wits.

"Basher, Smasher! Sic 'em!" the Man ordered his dogs, pointing at the advancing Dwarf. Both dogs immediately obeyed, charging forward, barking and gnashing their teeth. As they raced towards the Dwarf it stopped and waited calmly for them to come to him.

When the first dog got close enough to lunge, the Dwarf lashed out with a lighting fast move of his arm, back-handing the dog with a closed fist. The dog gave a horrible high-pitched yelp, which was followed by a loud snap as the dog flew back, smashing into a large tree trunk before falling into an unmoving heap on the ground. 

The other dog by now had also reached the Dwarf, and it too gave a yelping shriek, flying back to land nearly at the shocked Man's feet, kicking up a cloud of dust on impact.

The dog's head was partially collapsed, its broad muzzle at an odd angle, one of its eyes hanging from its socket. The Man stared in horror at the dead dog, before his attention snapped back to the now advancing Dwarf, who had just batted his two beloved dogs away as if they had been insects.

"My dogs!!! You bloody bastard! You killed them!!!" the bald Man screamed angrily, spittle flying out of his mouth. He clumsily drew his noticeably notched sword, holding it in front of him with both hands.

"Sorry about that… I'm not here to kill dogs," the Dwarf said in a deep voice that held no apology, as it calmly took out the axe from its right holster, walking forward as the Man in turn began to back away. 

The Dwarf stopped its approach when it reached the carcass of the second dog. The Man watched in confusion as the copper-haired Dwarf paused then reached down, taking hold of the dog's wide collar. It then lifted the body up with complete ease until the large dog dangled from its muscular upraised arm.

The Dwarf seem to studied the corpse for a moment, before turning its dark eyes back to the nervous Man. 

The Man didn't even have time to yell as the Dwarf's long thick arm suddenly snapped back, and hurled the dog at him. 

He crashed to the ground, the air knocked out of him with the force of the carcass colliding with him. He gave a pained groan as he tried to rise, the heavy weight of the dog's body hindering him. He had just managed to push the dog off him when something knocked him back to the ground, and he found a heavy Dwarven boot digging into his chest. 

He looked up to see the Dwarf standing calmly over him. In panicked desperation, the Man lifted up his arm that still held his sword, to try to slash or stab the Dwarf.

He felt a strange tug on his wrist when he did this, and a moment later heard the ringing clatter of metal by his ear. Time seem to stop for the Man as he turned his head and saw his own sword lying next to him, his hand still tightly clutched to the handle. 

At first he couldn't understand what he was seeing, blinking dumbly before slowly looking back up at his raised arm and seeing the bloody stump where his hand used to be. The Dwarf with its dark frightening eyes still calmly watched from above him, its axe now stained red. 

The Man stared in disbelief. His eyes bulged in their sockets as choked and inarticulate sounds issued from his widely gaping mouth, spittle dripping from his chin, before he turned pleading and terrified eyes to the Dwarf.

The Man saw no mercy in those burning eyes…

~~~

Further up the road in a large clearing was a camp, inhabited by ten Men. Off to one side of the camp were sixteen horses tethered to a rope line; a little further away on a smaller line were tethered four pack ponies. Various pieces of equipment, such as bedrolls, saddles, and travel packs were scattered about the camp.

Of the ten Men only two were present by the light of the camp's fire. The other eight were elsewhere-- one was still not back from a trip into Ocendade the day before, one gone with his two dogs to get some ale from town, the other off in the woods to relieve himself, four others were further down the road, filling their water skins in the creek and another out gathering dry firewood before the rain came. 

There had actually been more Men camped here at one time, but some had left on their own, and a few others would never leave, their bodies laying hidden in the surrounding woods. There was no honor with this group, especially when there was gold to be had.

A wiry-built, blond Man sat next to the cheerful fire; he had declared himself the leader of those still left at the camp after the… unfortunate demise of their previous leader. He sat there counting gold coins in a sack, with many similar sacks sitting next to him, nearly nineteen in all. 

Worth a king's ransom, or that of all the lives of a slaughtered town. 

The other Man was standing next to the fire, looking anxiously down the road that disappeared around a sharp bend in the direction of Ocendade. 

"I'm telling you, Fouhst. I heard something. It sounded like one of Graza's dogs," insisted the young Man. He couldn't have been more then twenty three years old, with dark hair that just touched his shoulders. Like the other Men of their camp he was dressed in dark, good quality traveling clothes, with a pair of high laced-up boots.

"Gaza probably kicked one of 'em again--who knows! Maybe they caught a rabbit or something. I personally don't give a shit, as long as he gets back soon with the ale," grumbled the other sourly, not looking up from caressing the gold coins in his hands. 

"And speakin' of 'soon'... that snot-nosed bastard Tir still ain't back yet, and what in Valar be taking Gwiryn and the others so damned long!? Shouldn't take over half the damned day to fill our water skins!" continued Fouhst, throwing a glare down the road in the direction their other companions had taken towards the creek.

"It ain't been that long. Gwiryn and the others probably stopped to do a little sword practice with Owynvan," answered the younger Man in an admonishing tone.

"Gwiryn is out of his mind to bring that child along! We should have left this area long ago…" the Man continued to grumble, inspecting a particular coin closer.

The dark-haired Man rolled his eyes at the older Man's words, before speaking again.

"Gwiryn just wants to spend some time with his son-- he hasn't seen him since we did that long job over at that coal town down south. Besides, Owynvan is fifteen and good with a sword. It's good for him to be out seein' the world!" he said, but the Fouhst only snorted, muttering something under his breath.

Letting out a big sigh, he threw the older Man another annoyed glance before looking back the way Gaza and his dogs had gone. _The strange sound from before, it could have been a scream_, he thought, _but maybe it was nothing_. But something just kept nagging at him. He looked briefly up at the dark sky when another clap of thunder rolled overhead, trying to understand the strange feeling prickling along his nerves.

"I still swear I heard something," he said quietly to himself, but apparently Fouhst heard him as well.

"Will you shut up about that already!?" snapped the other in exasperation, looking up from the coins in his gnarled hands. 

The young Man shot him a glare before going back to watching the road.

_Damn Fouhst anyway! Hate the way he and the others be treatin' me like a child-- like Owynvan! Greedy…sour old bastard!_ he thought to himself as he stood at the edge of their camp, looking down the road while straining his ears to listen for any other strange noises. 

Yet all he heard was the wind rustling the leaves of the trees, the creaking of the forest around them, or the occasional pop and hiss of the fire, as well as the clear clinks of the gold coins that Fouhst still fondled in his hands. Still he continued to listen for anything unusual and still there was nothing. He didn't know why, but he had a bad feeling…

It was then he heard something; listening closer he identified them as heavy footfalls, coming from down the road.

Hmmm…It's too soon for Gaza to be back already, and _it can't be Tir because he took his horse when he left yesterday. Probably just some peasant or farmer on their way back from town_, he thought to himself, as he watched where the road disappeared around the sharp bend, the thick trees of the forest blocking his view. 

He began to grow a little more anxious as the sounds drew closer, and he waited with baited breath for whoever it was to appear. _It definitely can't be Gaza. I'd be hearing his dogs by now_. He gave a nervous swallow.

A flicker of movement through the trees, and a moment later whoever it was rounded the bend; he strained his eyes in fearful anticipation before he saw it was--

The young Man let out a big sigh of relief, immediately relaxing. _Just a Dwarf! And here I was all worried for nothing!_ he mentally berated himself, running his fingers through his short hair as he watched the lone Dwarf walk down the road towards him. 

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance; the dark-haired Man glanced up before turning his back to the road and the Dwarf and walking back to stand by the fire again. The blond also looked up at the threatening clouds above as another clap of thunder rolled across the cloudy sky .

"Looks like rain soon," he snorted, annoyance clear in his voice as he cinched up the sack of gold he had been counting, tossing it down with the others.

"Damn it all! I hate getting wet!" griped the younger Man, glaring up at the sky.

"Don't worry about it, Hamin. Come on, you can help me set up Rowell's tent," the other said with a smirk.

"Ya mean that big one? Are ya sure?"

"Why not, eh? After all--he ain't going be using it!" Fouhst said with nasty laugh. He got up with a grunt and gave a long stretch, his back giving a series of audible pops.

Fouhst had turned to say something more when he gave a loud curse of surprise, stumbling back a few steps, staring at something behind the younger Man. 

Hamin turned in surprise to see the Dwarf, who had been walking down the road, just walk right into their camp. 

"Hey! Who are you!?" the young Man demanded, and immediately a pair of dark almond-shaped eyes zeroed in on him. 

In that moment Hamin wished he had said nothing as a horrible dread swept through his very being. He hadn't even managed to put a hand on the grip of his short sword, when the Dwarf was on him in the a blink of an eye. 

His head snapped back and he saw stars as the Dwarf gave him an open backhand that sent him sprawling. He crashed to the ground, his ears ringing as the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, nearly choking on one of his dislodged teeth. But the Dwarf wasn't through yet.

He had just managed to lever himself up onto his elbows, spitting out the bloody tooth, when a scream of agony ripped through him. The Dwarf had stomped full force with the heel of its heavy boot on his leg, just above his knee, snapping the thick bone. Hamin continued to howl as he rolled around on the ground, clutching at his broken leg.

"SHUT UP!!!" the Dwarf snarled, giving the human a swift kick in the guts. This apparently worked, for the dark-haired Man fell silent with the exception of a few whimpers as he curled up, clutching his abdomen. The Dwarf then turned his attention to the older Man, taking his two axes from their holsters.

"Where is Rowell?!" the Dwarf demanded with a menacing growl, axes at the ready as it glared at the older Man on the other side of the fire, who watched with wary eyes. Another booming clap of thunder rolled above them, accompanied this time with a flash of lighting.

"What do you want…Dwarf? If it is gold you want, we have plenty," the Man asked cautiously in an amazingly calm voice, making sure to keep the fire between himself and the armed, irate Dwarf. He gave a brief glance to his left, where his bedroll and travel pack rested. If he could just get to his pack and his weapon…

"I know you do--and all of it still not be worth the lives of those slaughtered! Snake!" Gimli spat from the other side of the fire, the reflection of the flames dancing in his dark eyes. 

"I know not of what you speak," he denied, trying to creep ever so slowly to his pack.

"I speak of Black Hollow, piss face!" Gimli snarled.

"Black Hollow? You mean that little mining town down south?" Fouhst asked in false ignorance, trying to buy time and keep the Dwarf talking.

"Don't play ignorant with me, goblin sucker! I'm going to kill you all, for what you've done!" the Dwarf growled, his white teeth bared. The Man edged closer to his pack, still keeping his attention to the furious Dwarf on the other side of the fire.

"I'm gonna rip out your guts and strangle you with them!" Gimli snarled, and his broad hands gripped the handles of his axes so hard they ached. 

"NOW, WHERE IS ROWELL!?!" Gimli demanded again, preparing to charge through the fire to get to the Man. 

Suddenly one of the tethered horses let out a shrill whinny as it reared up in fright, spooked by Gimli's bellow and all the rage and fear in the air, causing a few of the other horses to neigh and jostled one another in nervousness. The sound and sudden movement from the large animal caused Gimli to whip around, and his heart seized in a momentary flash of old yet strong fear. 

Taking advantage of the Dwarf's distraction, the Man immediately lunged for something in his pack. 

Gimli's attention snapped back to the Man just in time to see him snatch a large coiled whip out of his pack. Gimli went immediately on guard, never having faced this type of weapon before and watched warily as the smug Man let the whip uncoil before giving it a sharp crack. It was clear that the Man was skilled with this particular weapon. 

"Ha! You want to know where that pompous ass, Rowell, is? I'll do you better--I'll have you join him!" Fouhst laughed with a nasty, toothy smile.

"Where is he--Agghh!!" Gimli let out a yell as a searing pain slashed him across the chest before he could block, the sharp crack of the whip ringing in his ears.

"You want a piece of me, Dirt-rat? Come get me!" the Man challenged, stepping around the fire and motioning with one of his gnarled hands for Gimli to come closer.

"Ahh!" Gimli let out another pained yelp as the whip caught him on the shoulder, forcing him back as he blocked as best he could against the lash.

"See, Hamin? The trick is to keep them at a distance!" Fouhst said, snapping the whip again. "Dwarves, hah! They're no better than beasts compared to us!" He laughed, watching with glee as Gimli desperately tried to dodge the whip, looking for an opening. 

Gimli grunted with pain as the whip lashed him, blocking his face as best he could with his forearms and axes. The whip bit and sliced open his tough skin wherever it hit, his forearms and shoulders taking the brunt of it. 

__

Damn! I can't get close enough for a strike! he cursed to himself, unable to stifle a yelp as the whip delivered a particularly painful blow to his now bleeding right forearm.

He continued to try and dodge, his beloved axes doing little good in this fight. Gimli even tried falling back to evade the lash, but the snickering and smug Man only followed, determined to wear the Dwarf's defenses down then whip him to pieces. 

"See! They can't get you if you keep them at a distance," Fouhst laughed, making the grave mistake of taking his eyes from the pained and enraged Dwarf to brag to Hamin, who was still on the ground watching with pained and wary eyes. 

Unfortunately for Fouhst, he was dealing with a Dwarf whose experiences was not limited to close quarters combat.

"They're too slow! They can-- hurghk!!!" Fouhst was cut off as his body suddenly flew back and crashed to the ground to lie motionless, Gimli's thrown axe now buried in his chest.

"Kill you," Gimli finished for the Man, as he walked to stand over the corpse. The Man's face was frozen in a look of complete surprise, his whip laying useless on the ground where he had dropped it. Gimli made a point of chopping the thing in half with his other axe, before reaching out and yanking his bloody axe from the corpse's chest.

Just then, the sound of crunching gravel and running feet announced the arrival of four other Men coming from the other direction of the road. 

"Hey! What's going on here?!" 

"Fouhst, Hamin! What's all the ruckus?! What the--!"

They immediately froze, seeing the copper-haired Dwarf calmly standing over their friend with two bloody axes, Hamin huddled on the ground a few feet away in the ruins of their camp. 

Gimli looked up to see four other humans; he even recognized the large fat one, remembering how he and Ulfr used to crack quite a few jokes about him.

The tall husky one with light blond hair carried a broadsword, the fat one that Gimli recognized held a large rusted one-sided axe in both of his fat fingered hands. Both of the other two carried swords; they were clearly family by the resemblance of their gray eyes and dark hair, the older Man sporting a large bristly mustache. Gimli could see the other was a mere teenager, his young face covered in the strange red pustules that young humans seem to get at that age.

The Dwarf and the group of humans continued to just look at one another for a few moments, before the large Man with the axe stepped up.

"Come on! Let's get the little bastard! He can't take us all on!" he shouted to the others, his jowls and double chin visibly jiggling as he talked.

The three others yelled their agreement, taking out their own weapons. Yet when the teenager drew his sword, the middle-aged Man with the other sword held a hand out, stopping him.

"No, Owynvan! You stay here," he told the teenager.

"But father!" he protested, eager to prove himself in battle, but his father only vehemently shook his head.

"No buts! Ya stay here!" he ordered the boy, before turning his attention to the Dwarf who still quietly watched them with dark burning eyes. 

Then with a shout from the Man carrying the axe, the three charged, and Gimli calmly walked forward to meet them.

He dodged out of the way of the broadsword, delivering a powerful kick in the gut to the light-haired Man, before ducking low to avoid the fat Man's axe. Gimli then quickly sidestepped a sword thrust, and kicked the Man's legs out from under him. 

This unintentionally saved the Man's life, for just then Gimli again ducked low to avoid another wild swing of the axe that would have taken them both out. The Man with the mustache managed to snatch up his fallen sword and crawl away from the two combatants, in an attempt to avoid being stepped on or tripped over.

The fat Man gave an enraged series of grunts as he fought. The young Dwarf was easily evading his axe, and it still after all this time had not used the two axes it held, or the large one on it's back. 

The large Man's swings were becoming so wild that that the other two combatants kept their distance, afraid of being accidentally hit, and awaited their turn. Gimli felt almost disappointed; it was painfully clear that none of these Men were true fighters, just thugs.

A large axe, while being a powerful weapon both physically and psychologically, is also very heavy. When wielded by a human, an axe must be kept in motion at all times to keep it effective and to not wear out the user. But a Dwarf had no such problems, taking fighting with one or more axes to a whole new level-- an art form that no human could ever hope to achieve. 

Gimli felt a flare of anger as he easily dodged and ducked the Man's two-handed fumbling and unskilled attempts to cut him down. The Dwarven part of him was deeply insulted that this oafish piece of lard would dare try and match axes with him, with a dirty and ill-repaired 'wood chopping' axe; a mere farm tool. Gimli's lip nearly curled in disgust as he noticed that the Man was already visibly panting and sweating from his wild and uncontrolled swings.

He had just avoided another swipe, when he decided he had seen enough. 

The fat Man's small pig-like eyes snapped wide with shock, when the Dwarf finally raised one of his axes and blocked his two-handed downward swing with only one arm. Then in a blink of an eye, the other axe flashed out across his undefended, bulging belly, before Gimli quickly stepped away.

The large Man seemed frozen, and his fellows watched in confusion, not understanding what was happening. Then suddenly incomprehension turned to horror as a large clean slit opened up across the Man's stomach, gaping open wider as the jumbled and bloody masses of his intestines began to tumble out. The axe fell to the ground with a heavy clatter as the Man gaped down at himself, trembling, the whites of his eyes clearly visible. 

Gimli watched with mild interest as the gasping and white-faced Man stared down at his opened belly, both of his trembling hands now full of his own blood-slicked intestines that continued to spill out of his abdomen. Then the Man's eyes suddenly rolled up in his head, and he fell forward to crash to the dirt, the ground almost seeming to shake, and lay unmoving.

_I guess it's true after all_, Gimli thought to himself, as he looked down at the mountain of flesh lying only a few feet from him. _The bigger they are…the harder they fall… _

"Branis!!!" the Man with the mustache yelled in shock, his voice competing with a clash of thunder that sounded in the distance.

"You-You little BEAST!!" He turned in fury to Gimli as his companions just stood there, frozen shock.

Gimli only looked back at the enraged Man, before raising up one of his axes and giving it a few flicks of his wrist, shaking the thick excess blood off its crescent blade. It was a huge insult, and apparently too much for the Man, for he gave an enraged bellow before charging the seemingly uncaring Dwarf.

Gimli put both axes in his left hand, leaving his right hand free. When the Man reached him, he sidestepped the attack and grabbed the Man by his sword arm; then using his momentum, he threw the Man over his broad shoulder and into the camp's fire. The human landed with a crash and a shower of sparks, before scrambling up, giving a series of panicked yells as his hair and clothes caught fire.

As he began to beat desperately at the flames, Gimli used the distraction to rush the Man with the broadsword, each hand again with an axe. The Man, realizing his immediate danger with barely a moment to spare, managed to raise his thick broadsword for a block, the two coming together with a resounding clash.

He was actually fairly skilled, able to block several of Gimli's strikes, but as they fought the Man began to plead for his life. 

"Please! I beg you! I-I have a family--children to feed!" he cried desperately, but he saw no mercy in those dark burning eyes, and his pleas fell on deaf ears.

It was then that the Dwarf delivered a devastating blow that knocked the heavy broadsword from the tall Man's hands. He watched with wide, pleading eyes as the Dwarf advanced on him again, his sweating and trembling hands now clasped in front of him in a sign of mercy.

"I-I know it was wrong but--but please! I had my own children to think of! I--!" 

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off as Gimli neatly lopped the Man's head from his shoulders, turning his attention to the other Man before the now headless body even fell to the ground. The severed head rolled a few feet away, its wide blue eyes still moving in their sockets as if in confusion.

Gimli calmly advanced on the now kneeling Man, who had managed to beat out the flames. Most of his hair and mustache were badly singed, his ash covered clothes still smoking, his pale skin red with burns and covered in soot. His sword was nowhere in sight, no doubt dropped and forgotten in his panic to put himself out.

A flash of lighting was accompanied a moment later by a booming clap of thunder, as another Man with short greasy brown hair, unnoticed by Gimli, appeared from out of the thick forest where he had gone to relieve himself earlier. He immediately froze, a short-sword clutched in one of his hands, upon seeing the scene taking place in front of him. 

The Man with the mustache apparently heard Gimli's approach, for he looked wearily up, giving Gimli a defiant glare. The Man didn't bother to try and get up or look for a weapon-- he knew he was defeated, but still chose to show his defiance to the bitter end.

Just then both the Man and the Dwarf paused when the sound of running feet reached their ears, coming up fast from behind the Dwarf.

"Father!" came a cry, and the still kneeling Man's eyes suddenly went wide with fright as he saw his teenaged son coming up behind the Dwarf with his sword upraised, trying to save his father.

"No! Owynvan, stay back!" he yelled out in desperation, but it was too late. For with those words the Dwarf spun around, one of its crescent blades singing out in a disturbingly elegant move. Its long copper hair in its thick tail whipped artfully out behind it, and to the Man it almost looked as if the Dwarf was dancing.

"Father!!! Hang on! I'll help-- hurk!!!" With a sound like that of a cracked open melon, half of the teenager's head flew off in a horrific spray of blood. The Dwarf didn't even blink as he was partially drenched in the gore.

In that moment everything seemed to slow, and all was quiet as everyone stop and stare, unable to take their eyes from the morbid scene. 

The upraised sword fell from suddenly stiff fingers to clatter loudly to the ground as the rest of the teenager's body went into a series of jerks before falling to the ground and flopping about. The body continued to spasm before finally, with a last few kicks and jerks, lying still.

The two remaining Men looked on in silence, agape with horror. Gimli just watched the body at his feet with indifferent eyes as he calmly wiped the red blood and bits of brain matter from the side of his face where it had splattered on him, succeeding only in smearing it more. 

"By the Valar! NOOOOOO! YOU MONSTER! My son--MY SON! He was an innocent!" the Man screamed, staring at the remains of his only child. 

He never saw the same bloody axe that had taken his son's life, descend and end his own. Gimli cleaved the kneeling Man's head from its neck with a simple swing, watching silently as the Man's head rolled until coming to rest next to the body of the teenager. 

All was quiet except for the groaning creaks of the trees around them, and the occasion pop of the fire. Another streak of lighting flashed above, but this time with no thunder accompanying it. 

Suddenly the crunch of gravel shattered the deathly silence that had fallen. Gimli looked up and turned to see a Man he hadn't seen before, with a short-sword clutched in a visibly shaking hand; no doubt he was another one of the wagon drivers by his dark clothes. Gimli felt a flash of annoyance seeing that it was not Rowell, the one for whom he had truly come. 

The dark-haired Man must have appeared sometime during the fight, he surmised. The smell of all the blood in the air must have masked the Man's scent from Gimli's sensitive nose. 

The Man watched as the strange blood-covered Dwarf, standing in the ruins of their camp and surrounded by the bodies of his fellows, turned its full attention to him. It stood there watching him with complete calmness, its two axes dripping with gore, its burning gaze now solely on him. He found himself caught between two options; fight or flight.

The short-sword fell with a clatter to the ground as he took off running, back into the thick woods from where he had come.

For a moment Gimli just stared blankly after the fleeing Man, as if not understanding what he was seeing, a genuine look of confusion on his-short bearded face. Then a fire in his chest flared to life, as realization struck-- the Man was running away. 

__

How dare he!? After all he and the others had done! The coward runs!? He thinks he can run from what they did!? At that moment, something truly snapped within him. 

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!! Gimli screamed, his almond-shaped eyes going wide as his pupils narrowed into mere pinpricks, before taking off after him. 

~~~

The Man ran in a near blind panic, dodging around trees, his heart pounding in his ears. His adrenalin gave him extra speed as he tried to put as much distance between himself and that Dwarf as possible. 

Gimli charged after the Man, both axes still in hand, his rage building. The Man had a good lead on him, but Gimli could see him up ahead as he crashed through the dark trees, and with his strong legs pumping, Gimli dogged the Man's steps.

The average Dwarf can only run about as fast as the average human, but the Dwarf had the advantage here. For unlike a Man, who can only maintain his top speed for a short period of time, a Dwarf can maintain his top speed for several miles. Unfortunately for the Man, he didn't possess this bit of information. 

The Man was starting to get a bad stitch in his side, as he continued to run blindly on. _Surely I've outrun him by now? _He thought desperately as he began to tire.

He took a chance and looked over his shoulder, and let out a cry of fright. Not only was the Dwarf still following, but it was gaining fast.

_No! This isn't possible! THIS ISN'T POSSIBLE!!!" _he mentally screamed in denial, his body putting on another burst of speed_. _But it was already too late.

Gimli waited until he was but six feet from the Man, then threw his left axe, catching the Man in the back of his right leg, slicing the tendon of his calf and effectively tripping him.

The Man crashed to the grass-covered ground with a pained yell.

"NNGAAAAHH!" 

He lay there, his face pressed against the ground, his teeth bared in a grimace, his nose running. Slowly he became aware again of his immediate situation, noticing through the fog of pain the heavy tread of the now walking Dwarf, coming closer. In desperation he drew a large dagger from the folds of his tunic before turning around to stab his attacker. Only to let out another scream of agony as the crescent blade of an axe sliced the offending appendage off at the elbow. 

He clutched at the stump in agony for a moment, before beginning to crawl away as best he could, adrenalin and his terror dulling the pain somewhat.

"What do you want!?! I've done nothing--" he gasped, his wide bloodshot eyes locked on the gore splattered Dwarf.

"LIAR!!!" the Dwarf bellowed, breathing heavily as it glared down at him. 

Memories surfaced of all the taunts and beatings he and the others had taken at the hands of the goblins down in the mine. _Watching the roaring fire spew and lick at the blackened entrance of the mine, knowing that all the others were still down there… burning_. The Dwarf advanced, raising its remaining gore-covered axe. 

"No, NO! Please!" the Man cried in desperation, as he tried to scuttle backwards and away from his tormenter. 

Images continued to flash in Gimli's mind even as the Man pleaded for his life. 

_Both he and Ulfr, on the old barn's roof, watching as dark plumes of smoke rose in the distance in the direction of Shiprock, knowing that the goblins and orcs were there, pillaging and burning the cheerful farming town._

"I beg you! I'll give you anything!!" the Man pleaded with the still advancing Dwarf, but the creature only stared down at him with burning hate-filled eyes.

_The mutilated bodies of the Women and children, scattered about the ground like garbage, festering with maggots. The evidence of the orcs and goblins having feasted on them and letting the rest rot, to be fed on by crows. All of it bathed in crimson, under a sinking red sun._

"Did you hear their cries for MERCY!? The Women pleading for their lives--for the lives of their CHILDREN!? DID YOU LISTEN TO THEIR SCREAMS AS THE ORCS FEASTED ON THEIR FLESH!!!!?" the Dwarf bellowed, as he visibly trembled with rage. 

_Svior and Nidi, nowhere in sight, the cackling of the orcs and goblins that watched them with eager and hungry eyes. Hanar's broken body, his broken battle axe still clutched in a broad hand, his own axe slamming into his best friend's chest. Watching the light dying out in Ulfr's amber eyes._

The Dwarf's dark eyes burned with a fierceness that would put the fires of Mount Doom to shame. The Man shook his head in denial, watching as the bloody axe was raised into the air. 

"I--I didn't...I..!!! Please! No, NO!! NOOOOO!!!!" Down the axe went with a meaty *thwack*.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" 

The horrible scream ripped through the forest-- deer stopped grazing and bounded away, a flock of birds flew off, scared from their roosts, and only the tall dark trees around them seemed to look on the scene taking place below with indifference . 

The Dwarf didn't even flinch when a hot spray of blood splattered on his face, as he knelt over the bucking and howling Man. 

"Noooo- AANNGH! Stop! I beg--AAAHHH!" Still the Man pleaded and still his cries fell on deaf ears. 

The axe descended again and again, faster and faster now. 

By some cruel whim, the Man was amazingly still alive-- now really only a mass of bloody and butchered flesh that still twisted and twitched, screaming as it convulsed on the blood-soaked grass. 

But Gimli was beyond caring as he continued to hack at the body with an untiring single mindedness, staring down at the mass of flesh with wide and unseeing eyes. For in truth he was lost in a blind rage, all of his anger, pain and despair, pouring out in a blinding storm of red as a strange deathly silence filled his ears.

"AAAUGHHH-hugghh! *thwack* AAAhh-hurrk! *thwack* Aaahh- hughh!!! *thwack* uuuuuughhhhhkk…"

The final piteous whine was followed only by a thick wet gurgling sound, and still the Dwarf continued to hack at the body in a frenzy, some internal dam having broken. 

Blood flew, drenching him and still he hacked, his eyes wide and wild, his pupils mere pinpricks. Bits of tissue, bone and organs now flew, soaking not only the Dwarf but the area around where he knelt above the body. 

A body no longer recognizable as human, and still the axe descended, again and again…and again…and again…

~~~

Hearing heavy footfalls, Hamin looked up, hoping to see one of his still absent fellows returning from gathering firewood, only to see something from a nightmare. 

Walking out of the woods towards him was the Dwarf; it was completely covered in blood and gore, as if the creature had been literally bathing in it. 

In one hand it held a bloody dripping axe, in the other what he guessed to be a mutilated bit of Shawn's head, by the greasy brown hair. But it was its eyes-- they seemed lit from within by some terrible demonic fire. 

Eyes of fire…it was then Hamin decided that this creature could be no Dwarf, but instead some avenging wraith, using the form of one. Some terrible fire-eyed demon born of the horrors and agony of all those damned in the ruins of that ill fated mining town. And now those dreadful flame-filled eyes were locked on him.

He gave a panicked cry and tried desperately to crawl away, having completely forgotten the still sheathed short-sword on his belt. He hadn't gotten more than a few feet when the demon was upon him. 

The young Man stopped and huddled there on the ground, shivering in fright as he peered out from behind his shielding upraised arms at the demon that now stood glaring down at him. The Man felt his bladder go and drench his trousers.

Its lip curled in disgust as the acidic stench of urine stung its nose, watching the whimpering and shivering Man piss himself.

"Rowell…where is he?" it demanded in a deep rumbling voice, glaring down at the human in utter contempt. The Man only gave a whimper, but otherwise stayed quiet.

"WHERE IS ROWELL!?!" the demon bellowed angrily, audibly tightening its grip on its axe before tossing down the bloody bit of flesh it had been carrying in front of Hamin, splattering him with flecks of blood. The dark-haired Man gave a gasp, flinching away as he stared at the gory sight in horror. His mouth opened and closed, but still no words came out.

Losing patience the Dwarf gave him a sharp kick, causing him to cry out in pain. "WHERE!?!"

"Cc-creek-k-k…bb-by creek," he finally managed to get out in a stutter. "D-d-down there…w-w-where the road pa-pa-passes-s- the c-creek, by t-the b-b-bridge. U-u-n-nder the big ch-ch-cherry tree-e-e!" he whimpered, a trembling hand pointing down the road in the opposite direction of Ocendade. Then he curled back up, his arms covering his head as he began to cry.

It was then that the heavens opened up and the rain began to fall in heavy sheets of water, but neither being seem to take notice. The fire gave a few pops and sizzles before finally sputtering out in a long hiss, and a loud boom of thunder sounded overhead as the rain continued to fall. 

With axe still in hand it walked over to the still smoking remains of the fire, where Fouhst had been counting the sacks of gold, kicking one of the bodies out of its way. It could see that there were quite a few sacks, all of them heavy and filled to near bursting with gold coins, except for one that was nearly empty. It was obvious that it could never hope to carry them all. 

The Man watched from where he was still curled in the dirt (which was quickly turning into mud), as the Dwarf put its axe back in its holster then went over to where the four frightened and miserable pack ponies were tethered. 

Taking two of them, a bay and a dappled gray, it then began to tack up the nervous beasts before loading the gold on them. No doubt it was a heavy burden for each animal by the way the gray began tossing its head in protest when the Dwarf was done.

Hamin watched through the heavy rain as the Dwarf raised a broad hand up to the pony. But instead of striking the animal, as he had thought, it began to pet its neck in an attempt to calm the beast. It stroked the pony's face when it had calmed, giving it a final pat before turning and walking back over to the remains of the fire. 

It picked up the final sack, the mostly empty one containing a mere handful of coins, before it walked over to the sobbing Man again, who curled into a tighter ball at the Dwarf's approach. 

The terrified Hamin watched with wide bloodshot eyes as the Dwarf calmly picked up the bit of bone and flesh and dropped it into the now wet and blood-stained sack before cinching it shut again. 

It then tossed the bag at the Man, the coins in the sack giving a few muffled clinks as they hit the ground next to human. 

"To remember this day..." its said simply, before walking back to the two heavily burdened ponies and tying the bay's lead rope to the gray. 

Then without a further glance back the Dwarf walked away from the ruined camp, leading the gray by the halter as the bay followed behind, leaving the many corpses and the now hysterically sobbing Man shivering on the muddy ground as the rain continued to fall.

~~~

Gimli had followed the Man's stuttering directions. 

He no longer led the two gold burdened ponies, having tied them off the road by a large fallen and moss covered tree. He had made sure they were hidden from view of anyone the road, before continuing down the muddy way. 

He took no care as he sloshed through large puddles, and the tall trees of the forest to either side of the road seemed to watch him with hidden eyes. Gimli took out both of his axes as he got closer, his heart speeding up in anticipation. No doubt Rowell had a camp down here, probably with a couple of his ass-licking lackeys.

A grin crept over his face as an almost giddy feeling swirled in his gut-- he was going to enjoy this! _Maybe I should split Rowell down the middle? Or cut off all his arms and legs, watch the scum squeal like a stuck pig! Maybe yank out his guts while he's still wriggling about, begging for mercy_, he thought with near glee, adjusting his grip on his two axes. He continued down the road before catching the sound of a fast moving creek nearby over the sounds of the falling rain. It was then he spotted the tree. 

It stood a little off to the side of the road, in a fairly large and pleasant clearing in the otherwise thick woods, and further down Gimli could see a small stone bridge. He finally stopped in front of the tree, just staring, as he stood in the middle of the muddy road.

The cherry tree was unusually large, its twisted and bent shape giving the very strong impression of a weeping, lonely old Woman. Strangely it was in full bloom, which was odd for the time of year. All the other trees stood around it at a distance, as if in a show of respect and awe for the large twisted tree. 

And there was Rowell, swinging from one of the tree's large bent limbs by some coarse woven rope. An abomination of true ugliness against the tree's loveliness.

He hung like some strange spoiled fruit. The rope creaked as he swayed ever so slightly with the breeze, his long wheat-colored hair tangled and filthy, his skin a sickly grayish-white. The once white cloak about his shoulders was ripped and frayed, stained with dirt and blood; Gimli could see he was riddled with slashes and stab wounds made by the blades of many daggers. His long pale feet hung bare, several feet above the muddy road; someone had stolen his boots. 

The sneer that had seemed forever etched on his once handsome face was gone, in its place an open slack-jawed grimace. His empty eye-sockets were full of writhing maggots, so many that they occasionally spilled out to tumble and roll down his clammy gray cheeks.

_Killed by the very Men he hired… killed by his very own greed…_

Gimli stood there in the pouring rain, the water running in thick rivulets down his face, as his harsh breathing came out in clouds of vapor in the cool air, both his axes still held in a white-knuckled grip. His large almond-shaped eyes stared and his heart pounded, as a deafening roaring began in his ears, a roar like that of the flames in the mine at Black Hollow. The flames he, Ulfr, Hanar, Svior and Nidi had barely escaped from.

A fluttering sensation started in his stomach, followed by the tickle of strange laughter, and a big grin split Gimli's face as he continued to stare at the rotting corpse. He put both of his axes back in their holsters, chuckling, before more laughter bubbled up from somewhere unknown inside of him. He began to laugh loudly and helplessly, throwing his head back in the excess of his unseeingly mirth. 

He stumbled, nearly bent double with hysterical laugher before falling to his knees with a splash into a large puddle, both his thick arms holding his stomach, the loud roaring still in his ears. He almost fell over he was laughing so hard, still clutching his middle with one arm as he managed to catch himself with the other, and he was still laughing when he opened his eyes and looked down into the puddle.

He gave a sudden start, jumping back in surprise and fright, his laughter immediately stopping.

He'd seen something in the rippling reflection of the puddle. There was something… he had seen some kind of monster in the water. A strange, filthy, blood-soaked creature, with frightening and heartless burning eyes, a terrible and wide malicious grin on its twisted face. 

After several long moments he forced himself to slowly creep back to the puddle on hands and knees, where he had seen it, denying the understanding of what he had seen. Until he sat there, looking down at the rippling reflection in the murky water again. This time, he knew it wasn't an orc or a goblin. 

He lifted a trembling hand to his own face, watching the strange creature in the pool do the same. Suddenly the roaring in his ears stopped and there was only deafening silence. His arm dropped to his side as he looked up from the horrible reflection to stare off into space. His tormented thoughts turned inward, the realization hitting him like a stab in the heart.

The creature was him.

In the silence, the silvery laughter of the Elves seemed to echo through his head as he sat there, lost and alone. 

His stomach twisted and bile rose in his throat. He felt ashamed-- his Mother would surely turn her back to him, disgusted, if she saw him now. His father, Nin, Daira, Minal, all of them; they would cast him out as a disgrace, at what he had become. 

__

What have I become? he thought as he knelt in that large puddle, soaked and filthy, his long hair dark and plastered to his head. He found himself at a crossroads, and now he must choose his path. 

Lady D's words of warning came back to him; _"Don't let this consume you, Dwarf. You tread a dangerous path." _

He grimaced and clamped his eyes shut, remembering the screams, the pleas for mercy, the feeling of bone splintering under his axe, the sick pleasure he got from it. Remembering how he had killed the teenager without a second thought, the way the boy's body had gone into horrible jerks as blood and brain matter flew--he had killed an innocent. A boy only trying to help his father…

In his rage he had become no better than them. If he continued down this road, he'd become something worse than them…

He opened his eyes again and came to a decision; he did not want to follow this dark path to its end, _it was time to end it_.

With that he finally stumbled up and went back to where he had stashed the two ponies and the bags of gold, the strange laughter still ringing in his ears. He led the snorting and nervous animals back down the muddy road to the cherry tree. 

He then set about unloading the two animals, the bay giving a shrill neigh, the whites of its eyes visible, extremely agitated by the thick smell of death in the air. The dapple gray remained fairly calm though its ears were back, shifting uneasily as it stood in the mud. When Gimli was done unloading the two ponies he undid their tack and harnesses, letting them loose. A sharp smack on the rump sent both animals cantering off, glad of the chance to get away from the place of death.

Gimli watched the two disappear into the rain, before turning his attention back to his self-appointed task. He walked to the tree before falling to his knees between two large roots at its base. He sunk his strong broad hands into the earth, then began to dig, using nothing but his bare hands.

His fingers began to ache and he was soon covered in mud and dirt from his excavations. He dug and dug until his fingers bled and his nails split and still he dug with a single mindedness, ignoring all else-- the pain, the rain, and the peals of silvery laughter in his head.

Finally when he had a large and deep enough hole, he picked all but one of the sacks of gold and tossed them in, before hurriedly filling it in again. He had no intention of keeping it, wanting nothing to do with this cursed and blood soaked-gold, but he also couldn't allow any to profit from this terrible boon. It had been made from the misery and pain of those lost souls, back at Black Hollow-- his pain and misery.

When it was finally done, the young Dwarf put both of his broad, dirty and bleeding hands on the bare bit of earth; he bowed his head, then in a sad and quiet voice, spoke. 

"Please, go now… and be at peace." It was then that the taunting laughter suddenly seem to vanish, leaving only silence and the sound of the still falling rain.

Then with some uprooted bushes, he covered the bare bit of earth. With luck the grass will have grown over the spot before the bushes turned brown and dried, leaving none the wiser of the treasure that lay beneath, guarded over by the weeping cherry tree. The tree that even now seemed to look down on the oblivious young Dwarf in pity and sadness as he crawled away from his finished task and curled up miserably between several large roots against the twisted tree's trunk. Soaked, filthy and tired, the Dwarf hugged his knees to his chest as he stared out with hollow and pain-filled eyes at the gently swaying body of Rowell.

The Dwarf stayed there for several hours, before the rain finally stopped and he managed to drag himself up. Then, picking up the one remaining sack, he simply walked away. Leaving the gold, the weeping cherry tree, and Rowell behind.

Rowell's empty eyes seeming to stare after the Dwarf, sadly crying his maggot tears…

Notes:

Of the ten Men of the camp, Gimli only killed nine. So no, I did not forget about the tenth Man (who was out gathering firewood). So…he's still out there O_O.

Did anyone catch the appearance of one of the lost Ent-wives ^_~ ?

(1.) This is just another of my own speculation since J.R.R. Tolkien told us hardly anything about Dwarven society. 

I speculate that the average Dwarf was probably quite bisexual (if they were sexually active), especially when you take into consideration that the males of their species outnumbered females by something like one female to every three males, and that females of their species are said to look very much like the males. 

(2.) Think of a dog like a mastiff.


	8. Dark Shadows

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 7)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for strong language, violence, sexuality and disturbing imagery)

Warnings: Oh! The Angst! Deals also with racial bigotry, violence.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few original characters, Gimli, Gandalf, and other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli while he and Thorin's company were away on their quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli? Then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is a Book-version, Not movie-version.

More notes: Another massive "Thank you" to Miss Little My! I seriously love this Woman *hug*. And a big thank you to everyone that emailed and left reviews ~_^ !

Even more notes: Someone asked if I'm the chick on Elfwood by the name of Sabra R. Hart? Yep! That's me ^_^! And if anyone is interested in 'seeing' what Lady Nei and the rest of Gimli's family looked like, go check out my gallery at 

~~~

Dark Shadows

~~~

During the night the young Dwarf had slowly wandered back to Ocendade, looking lost and exhausted as he walked through the rain, the heavy, stained sack of gold still clutched in his right hand. His axes clinked every now and then as he walked, their weight giving him a small measure of comfort.

As he made his way through the dark streets, he tried to figure out what he should do now, where he should go. The main street was nearly deserted; only those forced to be out by job or necessity walked the street. Gimli could see that all the many vendor's stalls were packed up, the nice shops dark and closed-- it looked like a completely different place without all the busy shoppers and loud vendors buying and haggling over various things. Now only the pattering sound of the falling rain and his heavy footsteps rang through the eerily quiet air.

He had just turned down the alley that would lead back to the south side of town and the brothel, when he stopped, realizing that he was still at a loss as to what he should do. _Should he go back there?_

Feeling terribly drained and with his thoughts in a jumble, he decided to rest for a moment and clear his mind. He looked around the dark and narrow alley; soaked as he was he still did not relish the idea of sitting on the cold and wet ground. He gave a tired sigh-- this would not be his first time finding rest in such a place, but at least before he could curl up next to his father or uncle for warmth. Now he was alone.

It was in an alley, not that much different from the one he found himself in now, that his Mother had died. Her beautiful face, pale and contorted in pain as she fought against the plague eating away at her body, Gloin clutching her to himself, desperately whispering his denials of her fate even as she sadly told him otherwise. Their foreheads touching as they whispered their love for one another in Khuzdul, their broad and callused hands tightly intertwined, as even through her agony Nei would reach up with her free hand to caress her love's cheek and beard, trying to comfort her agonized mate even as she slipped further and further away. Until her body had gone limp and her dark almond shaped eyes had closed for the final time as his father's howls of grief rang through the night air.

Gimli gave his head a hard shake, clearing his mind of the painful memory that still hurt as freshly now as it did that cold night all those years ago. He had to stop looking to the past; he must look forward. It was then he spotted the step of a doorway. 

Walking over, he flopped down, dropping the sack of gold on the step next to him. He bowed his head to glare down at the stained sack next to him, still not understanding why he had brought it along and had not buried it along with the others. He had no intentions of using any of the blood-soaked gold, but for some reason something inside him had insisted he take it.

He turned away from it to now glare at the stone and cracked plaster wall in front of him, the practical side of his Dwarven nature automatically noting in a distant part of his mind the poor quality of the masonry. Gimli rubbed a broad hand over his face with another tired sigh-- he felt so wrung out. The feeling of a gapping hole in his chest seem to grow with every breath he took, the wounds on his forearms and shoulders ached with a dull throb, and his eyelids felt as if they were made of lead. After fighting for several moments, Gimli finally gave up and let his eyes close, leaning back against the wooden door behind him. 

He had intended to take only a short rest, but he must have fallen asleep for when he next opened his eyes it was morning, and the once deserted main street was now swarming again with people on their everyday errands and jobs. The sky above was gray and overcast, the dark clouds promising more rain and a chill was in the air. 

The doorway in which he huddled was near the mouth of the alley, giving him a clear view of the busy main street of the town. None that passed the alley seemed to notice him as they went about their errands.

He knew he should get up and stop feeling sorry for himself, but was unable to find the will to do so at the moment, deciding instead to watch the passerby as he pondered what he should do next. 

__

Where to now? he thought to himself_. Should he go back to the "Red Blossom" where Ursla waited_? But how could he sully her or that place with his presence? If they knew what he had done… they'd probably toss him out, which he wouldn't blame them in the least for doing. He still had his money purse tucked safely away in his belt along with most of his saved wages. _Should he get some supplies and just leave_? _But where to go, should he go back, back there? No, it must be forward. Beside, there was simply nothing back there for him, not any more_. Only the smoldering and empty remains of a small mining town. 

__

Where to, then? Ered Luin, no, couldn't go there… another coal mining town, then? No, he'd had his complete and utter fill of coal. Then perhaps in the next town he could find some work, maybe the local blacksmith there would be more friendly, and maybe he could ask… Great, begging for more work, he was utterly sick of doing that too! _Well then, there was only one option left: the Iron Hills_.

Maybe when he got there he could get some real work for once, like forging or working with actual stone! He was so very tired of shoveling coal or hauling materials like a beast of burden, and it would also be nice to be around his own kind again. But that would mean he would be traveling a similar path as his father and uncle, along with rest of Thorin's company. He'd also be passing close to the Lonely Mountain on his way to King Dain's kingdom. 

Thinking of the Lonely Mountain made him think about Thorin's quest, and how much he truly missed his father and uncle, hoping that they were all right and wondering where they were now. _Had they made it to the mountain, and what of the dragon_?

"_If they're not all dead, that is," _a small voice in the back of his mind suddenly hissed.

_No! _he thought, vehemently opposing the voice in his head. _They are alive! They have to be!_

But he couldn't deny the grain of doubt in his heart. The Quest, even with Tharkun as their guide and Thorin Oakenshield himself leading them, was a long shot to begin with, most thinking it pure suicide. Not to mention, the motley group that had gone with Thorin and Gandalf. 

Gimli gave a mental snort, remembering back to the night in the old barn in Black Hollow after a long days work down in the mines, sitting on the hay covered floor in one of the empty stalls listening to his father, with Oin already laying down next to where they sat, fast asleep. When Gloin had told him who else besides himself, Oin, Gandalf, and Thorin were to go, Gimli had burst out laughing (1.). Which in turn had earned him a smack upside the head from his not amused Father.

Even though he had complete faith in his father's and uncle's abilities, they were not true fighters, both preferring a simple knife to an axe or a sword. He remembered how his mother had told him, shaking her head in disbelief, that she was truly amazed that Gloin had survived the battles he had, for his true skill lay in his masterful ability to craft jewelry and build things, and not in his fighting ability. 

His mother Nei, being the head of the family, had always been their main defender and when his mother died that role was passed to Gimli, even though Gloin was now head of the family and made all the decisions. Thanks to his mother's thorough (and harsh) teachings, Gimli was quite skilled at hand-to-hand, as well as weapons combat, and while his chosen weapons were his beloved axes, he was also skilled with a Dwarven knife and could effectively use a sword (both long and short) as well as a broadsword in a pinch(2.). Also, like his mother before him, he specialized in melee fighting, which was quite useful when one found oneself traveling alone in the wilds with orcs and robbers about, not to mention on a crowded battlefield. 

In fact, with the exception of Thorin, none of the company were truly skilled warriors by Dwarven standards, though (like all Dwarves) they could hold their own quite well, and very well by the standards of outside races. Dori, for example, was incredibly strong and an unbeatable wrestler, Gimli having had personal experience of this from being thoroughly trounced by the good-natured, black haired Dwarf in a few impromptu matches he and Ulfr had attempted with him. But for all the large Dwarf's astonishing strength and grappling skill, he was an unskilled warrior when it came to full out fighting and weapons. Not for the first time Gimli found himself thanking Mahal that cranky old Gandalf was there to lead them true and help keep the company safe.

He continued to think of all of this as he idly watched the various people going to and fro down the busy street, some individuals catching his eye.

A particularly fat and heavy Man, who reminded Gimli a bit of old fat Bombur, came into view. Dressed in rich clothes, with a fancy hat sporting a big puffy white feather, the Man strutted through the crowd with self-importance, some kind of half-eaten pastry clutched in his hand. The Man's sausage-like fingers were covered in various rings, many gold chains glittered about his almost nonexistent neck, and his massive gut hung over his silver and gem incrusted belt, from which dangle brazenly a rather large money purse. 

The Man gave a loud and angry grunt when a small figure suddenly bumped into him, and looking down he saw a young Woman who at the moment was giving hurried apologies. It was clear that she was but a common peasant by her simple frayed work dress and the layer of grim on her hands and face. The fat merchant only glared at her, making a point of knocking imaginary dust from his clothes, clearly indicating what he thought of her and her apologies, before angrily shoving past her to continue down the street in his arrogant strut.

As the young Woman watched him go, a small smirk stole over her rather plain face before she hurriedly disappeared back into the crowd of shoppers.

Gimli idly wondered how long it would be before the fat merchant realized that he was now missing his rather large money purse.

Coming the opposite way an old couple, dressed simply but well, strolled down the street arm in arm, probably on their daily morning walk. Their backs were bent, their limbs withered with age, their heavily wrinkled faces and spindly hands pale, covered in age-spots and ropey veins. The old Man had hardly a hair left on his shiny wrinkled head while his equally ancient mate had a head full of snow white and wispy hair, a lovely white embroidered shawl draped around her bony stooped shoulders. 

But for all of this, they walked with utter confidence, the expression in their eyes telling any who looked just how still truly and madly in love they were with one another. The look in that old Man's face when he would occasionally glance at the equally old Woman on his arm, told all that she was still the most beautiful creature in all the lands, and he was the luckiest Man in Middle-earth because she was on 'his' arm walking beside him. The look in her eyes when she looked at him spoke the same message, one of utter love and complete devotion. 

Not far away, sitting dejectedly on the ground a few feet from a vendor selling pottery, was a middle-aged Man begging for change, a small bowl held out in his dirty and scarred hands. Three of his fingers were missing, his left leg was gone from the knee down, and he looked riddled with old wounds. Resting on the ground behind him was a walking stick and a large broadsword. The thick calluses on the Man's hands told of many years of swinging a sword, most likely the very one that lay dirty and rusted on the ground behind him. 

Most likely he was a crippled soldier, his years of glory long past, his weapon now lying impotent. Once proud, he begged, his scarred face a mask of shame and desperation. Gimli felt a stab of pity; it was a horribly sad end for a warrior. The loss of a limb would have driven most Dwarves to suicide, especially that of an arm, but Gimli supposed that it was different for Men. Either way, the sight of the crippled soldier tugged at the remains of the Dwarf's shattered heart.

Coming down the street, two elegant Elves glided through the crowd that automatically parted for them. Their golden, near silver hair was delicately braided with small beads of white coral, and they wore soft gray cloaks and flowing gossamer clothes of light blues and white. Their beautiful pale faces were mellow, their jewel-like eyes sparkling with amusement at the simple mortals around them. Many a shopper paused to give them an awed or admiring glance before going about their business. 

Even though Elves were not an uncommon sight in Ocendade, there was still just something truly magical in even the plainest of Elves. The two continued on their way, standing out like a pair of graceful swans in a flock of meandering ducks.

Gimli watched them pass with dark and wary eyes, his hand unconsciously straying to one of his axes. He hated the fact that even now his gaze was undeniably drawn to their radiant beauty, even though he knew it to be nothing but a false veneer for the cold and cruel hearts that beat within (3.). 

He felt a deep bitterness twist his stomach as he watched them glide away. They would never have people sneer and look down their noses at them, thinking them inferior, thinking them as nothing more then simple, dirty and greedy beasts that should be laughed at or scorned. They would never see signs tacked up on doors telling them and all others that their 'kind' were not welcome. No, not them, not the fair and wise Elves. They'd always be thought of as good and pure, perfect and beautiful, looked at in adoration and love…

Not like him…not like his kind, he thought bitterly as he looked down at his broad, dirt and blood-covered hands, before eventually turning to look once more at the 'humanity' beyond the alley he sat in.

A little further down the street, a family of street performers awed a crowd of onlookers with their tumbles, flips, and juggling. They all wore faded red hose that had holes and runs in them, along with fitted and faded green sleeveless tunics, tied at the waist by once bright yellow sashes that were frayed from use. The tall dark-haired Man, no doubt the father of the group, was in the process of doing a series of back flips, along with a thin adult female (no doubt the Man's mate) and two of the older boys. The two younger children, a boy and a girl, juggled colored wooden balls as an older Woman, most likely their Grandmother, sat on a box nearby playing a lute and singing, a large hat with a few copper shillings in it at her feet.

The complicated stunt went off without a hitch, and the crowd gasped before applause and laughter broke out followed by a few more coins tossed into their collection hat. The patriarch of the troop hid his grimace of pain with a big grin as he gave a deep bow to the crowd. No one noticed how slow and jerkily he straightened up again, even though his wife and two sons watched with concerned eyes as they gave the crowd their own fake smiles. His joints and muscles were surely screaming in pain from constant over use and strain, but his family must be fed, so the show must go on.

Not far away, a child skipped between her doting parents as they leisurely shopped, their high quality clothes and expensive cloaks showing them to be most likely rather wealthy merchants. The child, clad in equally an expensive dress and slippers, happily ate a candied pear before suddenly coming to a halt, spotting a vendor selling toffees and various spun sugar treats. 

Seeing this, the child looked back at her half-eaten candied pear, and with a huff and a contemptuous glare she tossed the treat down before turning to her parents, tugging at her mother's heavy skirts and loudly demanding they buy her a new snack. She stamped her small foot as she whined loudly, pointing to the toffee vendor and sure enough within a matter of moments the parents of the spoiled child had let their daughter drag them over to the booth, the half-eaten candied pear laying forgotten on the dirty cobblestone street.

No one except Gimli seemed to notice a small street urchin dart out from a hiding spot to snatch up the forgotten treat before slipping back the way he'd come. The painfully thin boy, who could only be around five years old and clad in filthy rags, squatted behind some empty crates as he ravenously ate what was left of the pear.

Even with his own pain and turbulent emotions, the sight of the small starved child crouched in the shadows, desperately licking his small dirty fingers, and the disappointment in those big sunken eyes that there was nothing left of the small meal, was too painful. 

Gimli turned his dark eyes away; he of all beings knew of the harshness and cruelties of Middle-earth, but that did not stop him from wishing it was not so, as what little remained of his heart broke a little further for the child.

While people laughed and talked, others struggled to make but a few bits of spare change. While people ate and wasted food, others starved but a few yards away. While bright-eyed children ran and laughed with their families, others begged and searched for mere scraps with hollow and hopeless eyes. Amid such finery there was such utter despair…

Gimli could see it all from where he sat. He turned away to look down at the ground between his booted feet, his emotions a whirl inside him. _Was he now like one of these…unwanted and lost people? No, he was something different…something worse, _he thought to himself_. _

He felt bitter bile suddenly rise in the back of his throat and as a wave of vertigo took him, his stomach gave a sharp lurch before he fell forward onto his hands and knees and began to vomit. 

A few passersby upon hearing the noise glanced into the alleyway as they walked by, but most quickly looked away, wincing with disgust at seeing a filthy Dwarf on all fours emptying its stomach contents onto the dirty cobblestones of the alleyway.

_Drunkard_, some thought. Others didn't even care, thinking him just another filthy vagabond.

Finally the spasms of his stomach subsided. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Gimli sat back down in the doorway, leaning against the door as he panted, his stomach sore and his throat hurting. It was then the dark clouds above decided it was time for another shower, starting with a light sprinkle that promised to become a downpour at any moment. Leaning his head against the rough wood of the door behind him, Gimli glared up at the sky, _wasn't he already soaked enough? _He quickly decided that he had had just about his fill of rain, no matter how well it matched his mood.

"Gimli!"

He was startled out of his dark thoughts by the sound of someone calling his name, followed by the echo of running feet and a light tinkling sound coming from the other direction of the alley. He turned his head and saw both Ursla and Merry hurrying down the narrow alleyway towards him, Ursla's ever present hoop earrings ringing merrily as she ran, her loose raven locks whipping behind her.

Both were holding their long skirts up so as not to trip and to avoid letting them drag and get dirty. Merry held her red shawl over head to avoid the light sprinkle while Ursla went without, ignoring the drizzle. Her pale feet slapped against the wet cobblestones as she ran barefoot, her simple slippers held in her free hand so they wouldn't get wet and dirty (they were her only pair). 

"Gimli! By the Valar! Are ya all right!?" she said breathlessly when she finally reached him, with Merry right behind. "Someone came in, tellin' that he seen ya near dead in an alley! Ya 'ad me so bloody worried!" she panted, taking in his dirty and soaked form with concerned eyes. Gimli remained quiet, simply unable to say anything as he looked up at the two panting Women.

Ursla sat down next to him on the step, putting her slippers in her lap as her gray-blue eyes searched the Dwarf for major injuries, immediately spotting the whip-cuts on his forearms, shoulders and chest. 

"Oh, Gimli. Ya hurt," she said, giving a hiss as she carefully picked up his thick arm for closer inspection, biting her painted lip as she glared at the angry cuts. Merry, who had remained standing in front of them (careful to avoid the pool of vomit), bent down for a closer look as well, her tightly curled hair spilling about her rich brown-skinned face and shoulders as she still held her shawl over her head.

"Those are lash marks if I ever saw 'em," Merry said with complete conviction, a frown marring her lovely face.

"Ouch, they look shallow but we need ta get 'em cleaned and dressed as soon as we can," Ursla said, more to herself than to Gimli or Merry. She then turned her flashing eyes to glare at the Dwarf beside her, still holding his arm. Gimli could only give a wince, knowing what was coming.

"What are ya doin' 'ere!? Why did ya not come back!?" she demanded angrily, though it was clear it was from deep worry. "Well? What ya got ta say for ya self!? Worryin' me half ta death!"

She watched as shame and something else she couldn't place flashed behind those almond-shaped eyes before he turned away as if he couldn't bear to face her. But she would have none of it, for no sooner had he averted his gaze than she firmly reached out and turned his face towards her again, looking him straight in the eye.

The expression in her coal-lined eyes demanded an answer, and he gave a swallow, his mouth suddenly dry.

"I got lost," he finally managed to say, looking at her miserably, knowing how lame it sounded.

It was obvious she didn't believe it for a second, but her eyes immediately softened, and she let the subject drop with a sigh. She then reached over and tucked a bit of hair that had escaped from his ponytail behind his ear, giving a small gasp when her fingers came back stained with a dark rust color, immediately identifying it as blood. She realized, his hair (which she had assumed was dark because it was wet) was covered in it, as well as the rest of him and his clothes. Merry noticed too, but said nothing.

For long moments no one moved or said anything, and the many shoppers and those about on their own business continued to stream by the alleyway's entrance, taking no notice of the three figures. 

Finally Ursla picked up her slippers and got up from the doorway, giving Gimli's arm a gentle tug--.

"Come on, luv, let's get out o' here," she said, releasing him when he got up as well.

The Dwarf made sure to take the stained sack with him, neither Woman seeming to have taken notice of it. With that the three silently walked away, making their way down the narrow and wet alley, back the way Merry and Ursla had come.

~~~

When the three had returned to the large old inn, Gimli noted that the ever lit red lamps in the windows, which signaled that the brothel was open for business, were unlit. They stood in front of the large door painted with its creeping vines and red flowers, but before Merry had even touched the handle the door opened for them. The cloying scent of incense, the foul stink of Men and the musky scent of sex immediately assaulted his sensitive nose. 

Standing in the doorway was none other then the statuesque Lady D herself, which surprised them all for in all the time they had been there they had never seen Lady D get the door for anyone or anything. The elegant older Woman only looked at them with impassive eyes that betrayed nothing before moving aside and motioning them in, closing and latching the door after Gimli.

The Dwarf hadn't gone more then a few steps, following Ursla and Merry who had continued through the red draped main room and into the back where the kitchen was hidden, when Lady D called out to him, causing him to stop.

"Tell me, Dwarf. Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked, gliding up behind him, watching him with knowing and sharp eyes.

For long moments the Dwarf said nothing as she patiently waited, taking in the tired droop of his broad shoulders, the clear exhaustion that showed in his body language, his dirty and blood-soaked clothes.

"No…only something in myself that I truly wish I had not seen," he said finally, in a quiet and haunted voice. 

Then without a further word, he trudged wearily after Merry and Ursla. Lady D silently watched him disappear through one of the doorways that were carefully camouflaged by some gauzy red drapes, her regal face as always devoid of emotion even as her storm-gray eyes reflected in pity and strangely, a deep understanding. She gave a tired sigh before gliding after him, her black fan in hand, the heavy swish of skirts the only sound in the silent empty room. 

~~~

A short time later Gimli found himself sitting in a chair at the large table in the kitchen, his back to the warm cooking hearth, feeling strangely numb as Mavis applied some foul smelling ointment of her own making to the wounds on his shoulders as well as the one on his chest. At the same time, Draco was calmly stitching up one of the gashes on his right forearm, the many silver bracelets on his's slim wrists chiming merrily with the elegant Man's movements. 

Lady D sat at the head of the large table filling him in about the big happenings that had taken place while he had been gone, the beautiful Merry sitting in her ever present place next to her older flame-haired lover with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. Ursla was making some tea over by the hearth as Gimli quietly listened to the Headmistress's smooth yet resonant voice, being careful not to fidget as Draco and Mavis worked.

He learned two bits of information: the night before while he had been gone the brothel owner had finally died, leaving Lady D the rights to the brothel. He watched how Lady D unconsciously rubbed the beautiful silver ring on her finger as she told him, with a barely perceived undercurrent of relish, of Master Clots's final pained moments.

Apparently at the news of his death nearly half of the ladies and one of the three Men who worked here, had come to the Headmistress and immediately bought back their contracts, something they had not been able to do while the money hoarding brothel owner was alive. Most stayed only long enough to pack, before walking out the door without a backward glance. This explained why the brothel seemed so strangely quiet.

"Here ya go, luv. I think ya be needin' this," Urlsa said, finally coming back over to the table and putting a half full mug of steaming mint tea in front of him before filling the rest of the mug up with a clear alcoholic liquid, made only by the Elves living on the coast of Lindon. 

She then raised the jug to her lips and took a big swig from it before firmly recorking it and putting the jug back in one of the overhead cabinets.

"My thanks," he told her gratefully, before picking it up with his left hand and taking a long gulp, careful not to move the arm the dark-haired Man was working on. Both the hot tea and the bite of the strong alcohol burned down his throat, and warmed his belly. Ursla soon come back to the table with her own mug of alcohol-laced tea and took an empty seat next to him with a tired sigh.

As Gimli silently watched Draco's elegant long-fingered hands expertly wield the needle and thread with practiced ease, he noticed for the first time the occasional glimpse of the thick scars that ran across the underside of each pale wrist, partially obscured by the many bracelets worn by the Man.

"Draco, ya got the hands of a healer! Where ya learn how ta do this?" said Ursla, interrupting Gimli from his thoughts.

"I used ta be in the Gondorian army, I got very good at stitching people up," the Man said, not looking up from his delicate work.

"You? In the army, I never would have thought it!" Merry said in astonishment, looking at the slender long-haired Man as if seeing him for the first time.

"Life be just full of surprises, isn't it?" he said simply, but there was a note of bitterness in his tone. He finally glanced up and gave the brown-skinned Woman a strange look, before gracefully getting up.

"Don't move Gimli," he ordered the Dwarf. "I just need ta get some more thread, so I can finish stitching the rest of those gashes." He glided out of the room, his dove gray robe flowing artfully behind him.

"Who would 'ave thought? Our Draco-- a soldier!" Merry finally said, looking in the direction that Draco's tall and slim form had disappeared.

"Aye! I still can't be believing it!" Ursla agreed, shaking her head in disbelief. "But if that's the case and he is from Gondor, then what in green Arda is he doin' here, as a whore of all things?" 

Merry gave an agreeing nod and Gimli said nothing, but was thinking the same thing as he took another long swallow of his alcohol-laced tea. Perhaps those scars across Draco's wrists were connected to the Man's Gondorian past, he thought to himself.

"I'm sure he has his reasons. Either way, 'tis not our place ta judge," said a cool voice.

Everyone turned to look at the quiet figure at the head of the large table.

"We all have our own dark pasts," said Lady D, glancing pointedly around the table at everyone there, including Gimli, before going back to gracefully sipping her tea, a large thick ledger book in front of her.

The silence stretched for a bit after Lady D's words, as all who were present quietly thought of their own pasts and what had led them here.

"That's right!" said Mavis suddenly with a nod of her head, breaking the silence as well as speaking up for the first time since Gimli had stepped into the kitchen. "I've been working the 'Red Blossom' since before any of ya, before Miss D came or even before Master Clots won this place in a card game. 

"Seen lots of people come and go, good people and bad. But there be one thing that stays the same, even when this place moves--which it's done once or twice. 

"I don't be knowin' why…but this place… it collects people. Interestin' people, the outsiders, the unwanted… the hurt. They all seem ta make their way here… some way or another. Some leave…some don't. Don't be knowin' exactly why…

"Who knows? I reckon this place is a bit enchanted," Lady Mavis finished with a shake of her head, before going back to clucking to herself as she applied some more stinging and foul smelling ointment to a wound on Gimli's shoulders.

The others at the table said nothing, thinking about the plump Woman's words. Perhaps Mavis was right; maybe 'The House of The Red Blossoms' was enchanted by some strange unforeseen magic.

The dark and gloomy day continued on. Draco came back and finished stitching up the worst of Gimli's wounds before going back to his room, wanting to be alone with his thoughts and a past that he was apparently still running from. Merry left soon after to take care of one of her 'regulars', giving Lady D a quick kiss before sauntering out of the room. As for Gimli, Mavis wouldn't let him leave the kitchen until all his cuts had been taken care of and the quiet and hollow-eyed Dwarf had eaten a bowl of her vegetable soup, which he managed to eat mechanically without tasting. 

When he was done, both he and Ursla went up the narrow stairs to the second floor, leaving only Lady D and Mavis alone in the kitchen. The flame-haired Woman still sat with her cup of tea at the table in her forest green dress, her black knit shawl draped about her thin shoulders. She wrote quietly in her large ledger book with a long quill, illuminated by a single large candle on the table, while Mavis worked noisily around the kitchen in preparation for that night's dinner.

After following Ursla silently upstairs and down the hall, Gimli now found himself alone in the brothel's only washroom. Ursla had drawn him a hot bath, then. 

Ursla had bustled about the small room for a bit, muttering to herself as she made sure he had plenty of soap and extra linens for when he got out of the tub. She also gave him a pair of black tights that one of her clients had left behind, having demanded his filthy shirt and trousers for a 'proper washin'. He'd have to roll up the legs a little, but they'd be comfortable and the stretchy material would fit him.

The deep wooden tub was big enough for three people to bathe in comfortably; since this was the only communal washroom in the brothel, many of the residents ended up bathing together, which; explained the tub's rather large size. By the door on a small stool was a single lit candle, providing the only light in the otherwise dark and windowless room, and in turn illuminating the dark figure in the steaming water. 

He sat quietly in the tub, lost in thought. The water came up to just below his chest, his tan skin once again clean and free of blood and filth, as droplets and rivulets of water clung to his smooth skin. His long thick hair lay slicked back-- clean and heavy with water, as it clung to his scarred and muscular back before disappearing into the water, where it looked like spilled blood under its surface.

_How could he ever go back to the way he was?_

His tired almond-shaped eyes stared blankly at the reflection of the candle's small flame in the rippling surface of the bath water, his true vision turned inward as images from the past and what he had done danced through his mind. 

_Who was he? He didn't seem to know any more. Was he Gimli, son of Nei and Gloin, still? Or was he someone else? _

He felt so horribly lost, the painful gaping hole where his heart used to be seemed to grow with every breath, feeding on his horrible guilt. It felt as if he were drowning in dark pool of sorrow, with no way to the surface.

__

The horrible laughter that had bubbled up from some dark and frightening place inside him.

The terrible image he had seen in the reflection in the puddle-- the blood and gore-covered face twisted into a wide malicious grin, the frightening eyes devoid of any-feeling except that of gleeful vengeance. Realizing it was his own reflection. 

He lifted his wet shaking hands to rub over his face with a pained groan. Then taking a deep breath he leaned forward, his head and shoulders submerging into the warm water as he curled up, his muscular arms holding his knees to his chest. There he stayed submerged, only part of his scarred and bowed back visible above the surface of the bath. But even in the strange and muffled quiet of the water, the images would not leave him. 

_The begging and pleading, the horrible high-pitched screams of the Men mixed with the shrieks and cackles of the goblins._

_The roaring fire, knowing their fellows were still down in the mine, Nidi's once bright honey-brown eyes now dull, as he stood brokenly next to a hollow-eyed Svior. _

Killing the Men in the wagon driver's camp, enjoying the feel of splintering bone under his axe, the screams of agony that followed. Making them pay for what they had helped do at Black Hollow.

The remains of Shala's body, the way there was nothing left of her from the chest down, both of her arms partially missing. But her face… her lovely and kind face, left strangely unblemished by the orcs. Her empty gray eyes staring off into nothing, her small mouth partly open as if she were about to say something, her raven-black hair still in its two plaits, covered in blood and dirt. The feeling of that cold skin as he gently closed her staring eyes. Her baby and two little boys missing, no doubt completely devoured like the rest of the children, like Nidi's little brother and Lady Hildr's three children, by the ravenous orcs and goblins. 

The way the one Man had run, how the Man continued to scream and howl in agony as his axe descended again and again. Hacking at the twitching and convulsing lump of flesh that was no longer recognizable as human.

Hanar's broken body still clutching his equally broken axe. Hearing Ulfr's yell of pain, watching his axe slam into his chest, the light dying out in his best friend's amber eyes. Knowing that it was his axe, his throw that had ended his dearest friend's life.

The teenager's desperate and foolish attempt to save his defeated father. The way the boy's body had gone into terrible jerks and kicks, spraying blood and brain matter everywhere. The howls of grief from the boy's father, before he had simply ended his life too.

One moment it was a screeching orc, the next a pleading Man, who begged for his life. The metallic smell of blood filled the air, to join the sickly and overpowering stench of rotting flesh, mixed with the sharp sent of fear.

And maggots…writhing maggots everywhere…

The images continued to flash behind Gimli's tightly clamped eyes, and there was nothing he could do to escape them. His face was a mask of agonized sorrow as he gave a small whimper, the pain in his heart continuing to rip through him along with the terrible images, the echoing screams ringing in his ears. Until it was finally too much to contain any longer and he finally gave into the primal urge that had been building ever since he had lost his twin at the age of six, watching helplessly as Nin fell beneath the merciless, pounding hooves of that terrible horse on that cold rainy day by that muddy road all those years ago.

A sudden rush of bubbles raced to the surface to pop and froth, joining the dancing wisps of steam in the small dark room as he screamed the agonies and grief of his heart into the water. The horrible and anguished sound would have rocked the entire brothel and the surrounding area, sending icy fingers up the spines of any who heard it, if it had not been muffled by the warm water. 

And there was only the single flickering candle to pay witness to the young Dwarf's pain.

Ok, next chapter I promise will be lighter. And I mean it this time!

(1.) The Dwarves of the Erebor quest always struck me as a particularly strange group to go on such an important mission. None of them, with the exception of Thorin, seemed to be particularly skilled fighters. And with the exception of their long knives, no one brought any other weapons. I mean, Fili and Kili carry a bag of tools and a spade, most of the others (with the notable exception of Gloin and Oin) carried instruments, and Bombur was immensely fat and out of shape. Not exactly my first choice on things and people to take on such a Quest. Clearly these guys were not up to the standards of the Dwarven 'warrior class' and clearly some were doing much better than others. They come across as quite bumbling, clumsy, and not to mention whiny. All of them were a very far cry from the skilled, brave, and capable Dwarven Warrior that Tolkien writes Gimli as later in LOTR. So clearly not all Dwarves are skilled warriors. I think these where the only Dwarves that Thorin and Gandalf could find that were willing to go on this long-shot quest to take back the Lonely Mountain, some probably going for the chance of gold and fame, but others probably going for the slim chance of having a better life and regaining their lost home. But this is just my opinion.

(2.) No, Dwarves are not limited to fighting with axes. The Dwarves of "The Hobbit" all carry long knives, which they are apparently skilled with. Thorin also wields Orcrist, the twin of Gandalf's own sword Glamdring, with apparent skill when he and Gandalf battle the goblins chasing them as they and the rest of the company try and escape through the Goblin tunnels. Interestingly enough, Thorin also shows us that Dwarves are capable of using a bow, and being accurate in shooting their target, when he hits the leaping white deer with a swift and sure shot, even though all the other Dwarves miss horribly and waste their arrows a few moments later (pg 145-146. chapter 8. Flies and Spiders, "The Hobbit"). Gimli also in one of Tolkien's earlier drafts of LOTR, picks up Legolas's fallen bow, after the Elf had dropped it at the sight of the Balrog, and shoots it (the arrow falls short). But this proves that Dwarves are not strictly limited to axes.

(3.) This is Gimli's hurt and prejudice talking, and _not_ views held by the author. I just want to make sure everyone understands that, since some people have emailed me, thinking that I don't like Elves. I assure you, I love Elves as much as I do Dwarves. I love both equally! Down with hate and prejudice! Equal rights for all Middle-earth species! 

Ok, one final thing and I'll shut up. 

In answer to an interesting email I received from Star-flicker (I think I spelled that right). Sorry but for some reason your email wouldn't work, so I'll answer you here. 

You asked why I have Gimli's childhood and younger years spent wandering around in exile, rather than have him living in Thorin's Halls of Ered Luin, in the Blue Mountains.

My answer is: Because I can, since Tolkien tells us next to nothing about Gimli's younger years ~_^. Seriously though, I don't think Gimli did grow up in Ered Luin, I think he grew up with the harder wandering life. One reason (this one can be found at Axe-Bow website) is the fact Gloin and Oin are extremely skilled at lighting fires. And while the average Dwarf would be used to lighting fires for their hearth or forge, Gloin and Oin seemed to have been picked for the Quest specifically for their skill in lighting fires. So they are used to lighting fires in various places as well as in all types of weather, giving the impression that they were outdoors and traveling a lot

But the main reason I believe Gimli had such a harsh young life, is this. In "The Hobbit", Thorin Oakensheild tells how the Dwarves were driven into exile and forced to wander after the dragon Smaug took up residence in the Lonely Mountain. Falling on hard times, they were forced into doing simple blacksmithing or mining coal to survive. He tells how eventually his father went to the Blue Mountains and created Halls there, where many Dwarves joined him, and they began to flourish again. And by this time (during the quest for the Lonely Mountain) Thorin's Halls of Ered Luin are doing very well, with trade and the working of iron, tools and such, and no longer having to do menial labor or mine coal for their bread.

Yet when Gloin says his snide remark about Bilbo being "more of a grocer then a burglar", Gandalf tells him off, saying. "--you can stop at thirteen and have all the bad luck you like, or go back to digging coal." (pg.19, chapter 1. An Unexpected Party, "The Hobbit"). Clearly, if Gloin is still digging coal, then he and his family don't live in the flourishing Halls of Ered Luin, which Thorin has been pridefully boasting about. Which means Gloin is probably one of the poorer Dwarves still forced to wander about and mine coal.


	9. Of Blue Moons and Falling Leaves

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 8a)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for strong language, violence, sexuality and disturbing imagery)

Warnings: Angst, deals with racial bigotry and violence).

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few original characters, Gimli, Gandalf, and other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli while he and Thorin's company were away on their quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli? Then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is a Book-version, Not movie-version.

More notes: Someone from the past comes to Gimli's aid and we learn a little bit about Ursla's past.

And more notes: A massive "Thank you" to my beta-reader, Little My! If it wasn't for her this story would have sputtered out long ago, you rock girly ~_^! And a big thank you to everyone that left comments and reviews!

~~~

Of Blue Moons and Green Leaves 

~~~

He walked under a night sky devoid of stars; for how long, he could not say. To where he was going and why, he did not know. All he knew was that he was on a journey.

The heavy tread of his footsteps echoed through the quiet and desolate landscape, as he continued down the strange path that cut through the ash covered landscape like a long meandering scar. Only the occasional skeletal tree dotted the otherwise flat and empty gray land that stretched for as far as the eye could see in either direction. The trees themselves were black as coal with no leaves covering their bare limbs, their bony finger-like branches stabbing into the night sky. 

A large sickle moon the color of spilt blood hung above in the dark void of the sky, there was nothing but a sea of endless black and the red moon. 

He walked on, having no idea of his destination or his purpose, when suddenly he heard faintly, as though from a great distance, the shrill neigh of a horse, and he immediately froze as icy fingers ran up his spine at the far off sound. It sounded like a horse but it was strange, having a quality to it that set his heart pumping in fear. As he stood there in dread, he began to hear the thundering gallop of hooves in the distance, steadily coming closer.

Slowly in the distant darkness, he saw something making its way quickly down the path towards him. Then he truly saw it, and his blood turned to ice water as he was seized by an old and paralyzing fear. 

Galloping towards him was something from the depths of his darkest nightmares. A huge dark horse charged forward, its head down, its legs pounding the path and causing gravel to fly. But it was no ordinary horse, no, for its skin was drawn taut over its body, with large gaps that left bone, sinew and rotting organs to view. The horse's mouth had only a few bits of skin and tissue left clinging on it, exposing the wide teeth and part of its long skull, and its eyes were nothing but empty sockets. 

It was a rotting, animated corpse.

It galloped towards him, its empty eyes lit from within by some dreadful fire, and Gimli was rooted to the spot, unable to move as he stared at the nightmare coming for him. Even as he found himself near incapacitated by fear, instinctively he reached for his axes-- only to find them gone. And that was not the only thing.

Suddenly he was no longer an adult of sixty-two, but a small Dwarf child of six again. Looking down at himself he could see he was even wearing his old red tunic, and his trousers with the large patches on the knee, his small feet bare, the hard sharp gravel of the path digging into the soles. He was nothing but a defenseless child again. 

His heart thundering in his ears, he look back up with wide and panicked eyes and gave a yell of fright, throwing his arms up as the horse came to a skidding stop right in front of him not five feet away. Still frightened, but noticing that he had not felt the crushing and heavy hooves descend on him, he slowly lowered his hands to see the terrible vision standing quietly before him, as if waiting for him to do something. Terrified and confused, Gimli scrambled back.

Then he heard a hiss followed by a roar as flames suddenly exploded everywhere around them, swallowing the gray landscape in a hot tide of fire. The dark tree snapped and groaned as they were consumed by the ravenous flames until there was nothing about him but a raging inferno of licking and dancing flames to either side of the gray path.

His attention turned again to the horse as it lifted its great head, opened its mouth, and let out another terrible scream, causing Gimli to cringe and clamp his hands over his ears with a cry at the painful volume. He watched through frightened eyes as bits of tissue, blood and maggots flew from its gaping and rotting mouth as it screamed.

The terrible corpse horse then lowered its head to peer down at him again, silently watching him with those empty hollow eyes, seeming to take no notice of the roaring flames around them. 

He noticed with panic that the path behind him was closing, the searing flames blocking it with a wall of fire-- he was trapped. Now he had no other choice; the only path through the flames was the one before him upon which stood the terrible horse.

_Gimli._

He froze, still crouched and staring at the horse, watching as what was left of the corpse's one remaining ear perked forward as it lifted its head to gaze behind him. Greatly daring and with his heart racing, Gimli turned his face to look behind him.

At first all he could see was a wall of roaring flames, then slowly he started to make out what appeared to be a small figure making its way through the fire. As the figure advanced, Gimli watched with terrified anticipation, the sound of his heartbeat hammering in his ears competing with the deafening roar of the hot flames around them. _What other horrible nightmare had decided to come and torment him now?_

Finally the figure slowly emerged from the fires to reveal not a monster, but a small Dwarf child. He was no more than the age of six, wearing only a simple blue tunic and a pair of britches with large patches on the knees, just like what Gimli wore except for the color of the tunic. 

The figure walked calmly through the inferno and stopped about thirteen feet from him, still surrounded yet untouched by the roaring flames. The small figure stood there then held out its small hand towards him, beckoning him, a grave but determined look shining in its almond shaped-eyes.

Gimli's heart gave a massive lurch, and his hands fell away from his ears as he stared in wide-eyed shock at the child. He knew this Dwarf child; he recognized the loose copper hair, the large deep brown eyes, for he was the exact mirror image of himself at that age.

_Nin! _

He stared in wonder at his lost twin for long moments, before looking back at the corpse horse. He found himself with a choice: go forward on the gray path, where the corpse horse still stood, or go back and face the hot flames where his twin waited.

Coming to a decision, Gimli gave the path before him one final look before turning his back to it and the silent horse, and walking resolutely into the burning flames where his brother beckoned. 

The heat was immediately unbearable, but he struggled on. The flames licked at him, setting his clothes on fire then catching his hair alight and his skin began to blister and blacken, as his lungs and throat seared from the heat. The smell of his own cooking flesh assaulting his nose, but he would not be stopped. He was in agony as the unforgiving flames burned and ate away at his small body, but still he forced himself forward.

He could see Nin still waiting for him, _just a little more, _he raised his own blackened and peeling hand out to his brother, just _a little farther_…

And suddenly his twin's hand was firmly clasping his own and Nin stood in front of him, a pleased smile on his small face. With a start Gimli realized that he was no longer in pain, he was no longer burning, in fact it wasn't even hot any more. He looked down at himself and saw he was whole and unhurt--the flames still jumped and danced around them but they remained untouched.

Gimli looked to Nin in confusion and wonder, still not understanding what was happening. "Nin?" he managed to whisper, his emotions all a jumble. Nin just gave a knowing smile and gave Gimli's hand a squeeze with his own.

A shrill scream broke the moment and they both turned to see the corpse horse, still on the ash gray path, rear up on its back legs. Its head tossed angrily and it kicked its feet as it trumpeted its sudden anger, but it was apparently unwilling to brave the flames to get to them.

Gimli's heart immediately shrank at the sight, but strangely Nin didn't seem scared in the least, only giving the apparition an emotionless glance before turning back to Gimli and motioning for him to follow him. Gimli gave the angry horse a final frightened look before following as his twin led him back through the flames in the direction that he had come, their small hands still firmly clasped. The corpse horse's angry screams still rang in his ears.

They walked for awhile and suddenly as if with a gust of wind, the flames around them vanished as if they had never been. The hard gravel under his bare feet turned to cool grass, and the dark starless sky with its red sickle moon disappeared as well, replaced instead by a bright sunny day with a deep blue sky and the occasional puffy cloud making its lazy way above. Nin continued to lead him until they came to a stop on a small rise that looked over the green hilly land around them. Gimli could see mountains in the near distance and quickly recognized them as the Blue Mountains, realizing that this was the same green land of his childhood, when things were good, before the orcs, before the bad times. When they were all happy…

"You're safe now," Nin said, turning to look at him. "Just remember to stay away from that path. If you go too far on that one, you can't go back." He released Gimli's hand and began to walk away.

"Wait! Nin! Please, I-I… W-why? Back there? The flames, the horse…why did…?" Gimli managed to ask brokenly, desperately catching and holding onto his brother's hand again to stop him from going. His twin turned to look at him once more, giving a blink as if not understanding the question for a moment.

"You got lost," he said simply, cocking his head, as if that explained all and for some reason that was good enough for Gimli too. "Now it's time for you to start a new path," Nin explained with an encouraging smile, swinging their linked hands a little.

Gimli gave a big swallow and his eyes began to well up with unshed tears-- so many emotions burst in his chest as he looked at Nin and felt his brother's small hand in his own.

"Nin…I miss you so much. I miss everyone so much! I've lost everyone! You, Mono, Minal, Daria, Mother, Ulfr, even Da and Uncle Oin are gone now! I-I'm… I'm so tired of being alone!" he cried.

"But you're not alone," Nin said, with a shake of his head. He picked up Gimli's other hand and laced their hand's together like they used to do when one was feeling bad and the other was trying to make them feel better.

"We could have been so close," Gimli said quietly after long moments, tears now falling unnoticed down his cheeks.

"But we are, Gimli! And we always will be," Nin said earnestly, giving their joined hands another squeeze as he gave him a sad smile. With that Nin pulled him into an embrace, and Gimli held on to Nin as hard as he could, tears still streaming from his closed eyes.

"Remember what Mother used to say?" Nin asked. "When even the hottest fire has burned out and the night is dark-- look up! For the fire in the stars still burns. The stars burn on. The stars burn always. You're our star, Gimli…"

With those final words his brother seemed to fade and he felt strangely adrift as if he were floating away on some gentle current, until everything seemed to settle once more.

When his rich brown eyes finally opened again, day had turned to night and he found that he was no longer a boy, but an adult once more. He could feel Star Smasher and Fire Reaper at his sides and the comforting weight of Blood Screamer on his back.

His arms were empty; Nin was gone. Yet strangely Gimli didn't feel alone; in fact he felt more whole than he had in many years. 

As he looked up, he let his arms drop to his sides and stared out in wonder at the swirling sea of infinite stars above. A large, full and soothing blue moon hung low in the sky over a single mountain in the distance that he had never seen before. 

_It was time to start a new path…_

~~~

"Bloody--! Look out!!!"

*BAM! THUNK, THUNK, THUNK, BAM!*

"Shit!" 

"Damn it all, Sam! I told you to _move_ Clots downstairs! Not throw him!"

"Sorry, Miss D! But he slipped. Least he didn't feel nothing', bein' dead and all!"

Gimli gave a sharp gasp, his brown eyes snapping open as he was violently startled awake by a sudden loud crash followed by more commotion and a lot of yelling and cursing from somewhere near by.

He blinked owlishly as he looked around, his mind still fuzzy from sleep-- all he knew at the moment was that he was lying on his side on something hard and he seemed to be under something. As he became more aware, he felt something wet roll down his cheek to drop on the dusty floorboard next to his arm. Looking down he saw it was a clear drop, and bringing up a hand he brushed his cheek and saw the shine of wetness on his broad fingertips. _Tears… _actual tears-- he stared in wonder at the realization.

He hadn't shed tears in many years, not since Daria's death in fact. He thought he was unable because there were simply none left, then he remembered.

_The dream… Nin…._ He tried to hold on to the dream, but it was futile. Already it had begun to slip through his fingers like quicksilver, until he could remember nothing except a strange feeling of peace. His heart did not feel quite so broken, the pain not quite so crushing.

As he slowly regained his bearings, he realized that he was wearing only the black tights Ursla had given him the night before and curled up in a near fetal position on a hard dusty floor, his back against a wall, and under what appeared to be a bed. 

It took him a moment to realize that he was in Ursla's room, before the memory of the night before came rushing back, of following Ursla back to her room, since the old brothel owner's body was now occupying the guest room Gimli had been staying in before. 

After wiping the last of the tears from his face, he uncurled fully and stretched out on his stomach, resting his chin on his folded arms (careful of the cuts and stitches) as he glared out from under the bed. He could see his three axes resting against the wall across the room by a dresser; his boots and belt lay scattered about the wooden floor. The filthy and stained sack of gold lay seemingly forgotten in a corner, along with a small dusty chest in which Ursla kept some of her more 'personal' things.

_But how had he gotten under the bed? _He remembered sharing the bed with Ursla, on her insistence, and falling asleep with her curled around him, her head resting on his broad shoulder as she hummed softly to herself while tracing patterns on his tan skin. It was a little known fact, but Dwarves are born cuddlers, which was quite nice when it was chilly out for their bodies put out a surprising amount of heat.

Listening quietly for a moment he surmised that he was alone in the room, and by the quality of the light in the room, it was another dreary day. He figured it to be sometime in the late morning or early afternoon, though he couldn't be sure. Either way it answered his question of Ursla's absence, for he knew her to be an early riser and no doubt she was downstairs doing something or other.

He must have crawled under the bed while he was sleeping, after the raven-haired Woman had left, unconsciously seeking a more enclosed space for comfort. He felt a wave of humiliation, disgusted at himself for such a pathetic show of weakness. _Here he was, an adult of sixty-two, hiding under a bed like a child of four! _he berated himself.

He was just debating with himself whether to try and go back to sleep or crawl out and face the world, an option which he didn't particularly care for at the moment, when he heard the soft footsteps of someone coming down the hall. The door opened and someone walked into the room; he could immediately tell it was Ursla by her scent as well as by the light steps and the swish of her long black dress. He watched as a pair of slender shod feet stopped in front of the bed, and he heard her put something on the bed before a moment later her concerned face peered under at him, her large gold hoop earrings tinkling merrily. A smile broke out across her burgundy painted lips upon seeing him.

"I see you're awake! I take it all that racket on the stairs woke ya up?" she asked, her gray-blue eyes sparkling with amusement. Gimli gave an annoyed snort, which only made her smile all the more.

"Aye." 

"Sorry about that; Miss D had Sam movin' Clots downstairs, when he apparently got away from 'em," she laughed. Gimli snorted again and rolled his eyes, _leave it to Sam, to have a corpse get away from him_, before he turned to her again.

"How long have I..?" he asked.

"Ya been curled up under there asleep for almost half the day now. Are ya alright?" she asked, her smile dropping as she sat back on her heels. 

"No," Gimli said simply. He ignored her look of pity as he climbed out from under the bed to sit beside her on the floor.

Ursla stayed quiet for a time, her pale hands twisting the material of the quilt draped over her bed before finally looking back at the Dwarf and asking the question she had wanted to ask since running out into the rain the day before.

"Did ya find him?" she asked. Her voice was surprisingly calm, though she felt anything but.

"Aye. He won't trouble anyone again, ever," he told her simply, knowing exactly to whom she referred. The image of Rowell's hanging corpse, with its open mouthed grimace and the empty eyes full of wriggling maggots immediately came to his mind.

This apparently was all Ursla needed to hear, for she gave a sharp nod of her head, her hands coming to rest on the quilt. It was a long moment before Ursla spoke again, breaking the oppressive silence that had crept over them.

"I was worried. Ya dinna come back, then when I saw ya…. filthy and soaked through to the bone in that alley! I just… Don't know how I managed ta get ya in the tub for a wash. Ya had so much blood in your hair…" She reached over and ran her long fingers through his thick hair then through his short beard along his cheek and jaw, marveling again at how his beard was just as soft and thick as the hair on his head, not wiry and bushy like the facial hair of Men. Gimli just sat contentedly still, his eyes now closed, enjoying Ursla's petting.

"Ya been sleepin' ever since," she continued, giving his beard a final pet before tugging it gently, unable to stop the smile that pulled at her lips when those deep brown eyes opened again and looked at her with an eyebrow now cocked in question.

"Gave me quite the scare, ya did, when I found the bed empty. Thought ya'd slipped out sometime while I was gone! Good thing I be checkin' under it," she said with a laugh, seeing his scowl before getting up and dusting off her skirts. 

Gimli gave a sigh before he also got up and began knocking the dust off himself, which was quite a bit. With another laugh Ursla began to help him, with the occasional playful pinch, and soon he was dust free, although Gimli finally had to smack her hands away with a yelp and a growl when she decided he needed a tickle to finish the job.

"Hope ya don't be mindin' the shirt. I couldn't get the blood out, so I went ahead and dyed it-- see?" she said, picking up his now crimson sleeveless shirt from the bed where she had laid it. "Not bad, eh? Now ya can't be tellin' it was ever stained," she said, showing him proudly. 

"My thanks," he said gratefully, taking it.

"Don't mention it, luv," she said, sitting down on the bed, watching as he pulled it on over his head. "Mavis still be mendin' ya britches, so you'll 'ave ta be wearin' what you're wearin' till she's done."

"It's a good color for ya. Red, I mean," she said, when his shirt was finally on. The deep red color contrasted nicely with the black material of his tights, accentuating his tan skin and the deep copper of his hair. 

"Appropriate too, considering how I always seem to find myself covered in it," he said tiredly, running his hands through his hair. He walked over and picked up his boots before pulling them on, his loose hair curtaining Ursla's view of his face. 

She gave a wistful little smile as she watched him. She had seen many Men in her profession and had seen many Dwarves in her day (both ugly and handsome), but there was just something special about Gimli. She could definitely see why her younger sister had fallen so madly in love with him, and she wondered what Gimli would think if he knew just how much Myia really had loved him. Her sister had confessed to her that the real reason she had left Black Hollow with Dreak was because she knew that Gimli could never truly love her as deeply as she loved him. She knew that she would never be the 'the one', and with Dreak she could at least be happy, even if he did not fire her heart like the copper-haired Dwarf she had left behind. 

Ursla gave a mental snort, knowing most would think her insane if they heard her thoughts. She knew that most people thought of Dwarves in a less than favorable light, seeing only someone shorter than them with a beard, or the fat, ugly, and greedy beings that they'd always heard about. Their ignorance and bigotry blinded their view of the world and the truth. If only those people could actually 'see' what was in front of them, they would truly be surprised at the wide range of looks, builds and personalities of Aule's children. Just because Dwarves were different, didn't mean that they where all ugly.

Gimli stood at five feet even, about a head shorter than Ursla (who was an average-sized Woman). Like most of his race, he was stocky and broad-shouldered, with large strong hands, thick corded arms and legs, and a heavily muscled chest and back. He was all muscle and sinew, with not an ounce of fat on him, and though he was very muscular he was not overly so, unlike some of the veritable muscled juggernauts that she had seen in her travels. 

The black material of the borrowed hose he wore clung sinfully to his lower body, accentuating his narrow hips, muscular thighs and firm rounded buttocks, not to mention the sizable bulge in the laced-up front. Surprisingly, with the exception of a light dusting of copper colored hairs on his forearms, chest and a trail leading down his flat muscular stomach to disappear under the waistband of the black tights, he was near free of body hair. She guessed, that some Dwarves, like some Men, were more hirsute than others.

His smooth tanned skin was interrupted only by the many angry scars over his back and arms, and he smelled like cinnamon and smoldering fires. A short and neat beard couldn't hide a fresh handsome face with its high cheekbones, strong jaw and small nose. His coppery mustache hid his top lip, leaving only his plump bottom lip visible, every now and then flashing a view of straight white teeth when he smiled or talked. But Gimli's most notable features were his large almond-shaped eyes colored a deep rich brown that seemed to burn from within by some hot internal flame, and a long thick mane of straight dark copper hair that reached to the middle of his back. Honorable to a near fault, with a surprising sense of humor and an easygoing attitude, it was no mystery that Gimli attracted many suitors, both Dwarven and Human. 

_Yes_, she decided to herself, watching him buckling his thick belt around his hips. It would be very easy to fall madly in love with Gimli, son of Gloin, and it was then that she truly understood her sister's pain and decision. Because for a brief moment she too cursed her luck that she was born of the race of Men. For when she was a gray-haired old Woman, he would still be fresh-faced and young. She knew Dwarves were mortal, but they might as well have been immortal to her in that moment, as a hot pang flared in her heart. 

Gimli happened to look over then and saw the sad and wistful expression flash over her pretty face.

"What troubles you?" he asked, coming over to sit beside her on the bed.

She just flashed him a smile that didn't reach her eyes and shook her head, her hoop earrings chiming with the movement. They both sat in silence for a time, until Gimli gently gave her a bump with his shoulder then leaned over and blew softly into the shell of her ear. 

These were both Dwarven gestures; the bumping of the shoulder and the soft blowing into someone's ear were purely a playful sign of deep affection, usually reserved only for close friends and family.

Ursla gave a small laugh, understanding the gesture because of her and her family's familiarity with Dwarves, and gave him a bump back. Then she sighed sadly before turning to look at him.

"I was just thinkin' that you'll be forgettin' all about me, some day. I'll be long gone…nothin' but dirt and you'll be just as 'andsome and young…in your prime, travelin', 'avin' lots o' grand adventures. And I wont be anythin' but a half forgotten memory ya have about some no-name w-whore…"

She had meant for it to sound nonchalant, maybe even a little funny, but by the end of it she couldn't keep the sadness and even a little bitterness from her voice. She turned her gaze to the window, trying to will the tremor in her lip to stop, embarrassed at her confession as a scarlet blush colored her pale cheeks. 

For a time everything was quiet in the room, save for the soft patter of the rain outside the window. Then she felt the bed shift a little before a pair of thick muscular arms wrapped around her small waist and pulled her back against a broad chest. Gimli's chin came to rest over her left shoulder as she relaxed against him.

"Don't be daft, Ursla. No one could ever forget about you, ever!

"I could never forget you-- or your sisters; all three of you have woven your way into my heart. I look at you and realize-- I love Myia…but if I were a Man, it would be you I would want as my mate." A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth at hearing his earnest words.

"But sadly, my heart belongs to another," he suddenly said, and her smile vanished.

Ursla sat up, pulling away from his arms to give him a curious and slightly hurt look.

"Yes, I fear I have lost my heart… to the Lady Grizalin," he said, as he dramatically put a broad hand to his heart and looked smitten.

She stared at him, her mind instantly conjuring an image of the foul-tempered and rather unattractive older Woman who worked with Mavis in the kitchen, before throwing back her head with a laugh. "She hates you!"

"Tis true," he sighed dramatically. " My heart knew the moment I saw her! When she opened the door for me that first day and stood there in all her glory. That stained apron, those monstrously huge hips, those squinty eyes and that giant mole with those two hairs on her pointy chin! Ahhhhhh, be still my pounding heart!" 

Ursla by now was in a fit of complete laughter, her long legs kicking in the air as she fell back on the bed beside him as he continued with his ridiculous rhapsodizing.

"And that voice! Truly the very Elves would run and hide with jealousy to hear it. I tell you, every time she opens that mouth, I can hear the love pouring through her words!"

With that he suddenly pitched his deep voice, with a trick that Ulfr had taught him, into a high falsetto and did an extremely good impression of the cranky Woman's nasal tone. 

"You, Dwarf! What ya' want? 

"Ya damned dirt-rat! Get outta here, before ya get your mange in everythin'! 

"Hey you, Dwarf! Don't think I know what ya doin', ya little pervert!"

Ursla was trying to stifle her laughter with one hand, her other arm wrapped around her aching stomach. Gimli also by now couldn't hold back his mirth, joining her as he leaned back propped up on his elbows.

Just then there was a loud knock that made them both jump, and their laughter immediately stopped at the sound of a Man's voice on the other side of the door.

"Eh, this Ursla's room?" called the voice.

"Oh no! I completely forgot! I be havin' one of Elisi's clients today, since she be gone visitin' her Ma!" Ursla hissed in a whisper, flopping back down on the bed again with a groan and a grimace. Gimli looked at the door for a moment then a twinkle came to his eye, before turning to look back at Ursla, who was pouting as she glared at the ceiling with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Has he ever seen or heard ya before?" Gimli asked her, motioning with his head to the door.

"Well no, he's one o' Elisi's regulars. I'm just takin' him this week as a favor for 'er, why?" she asked, turning to give him a confused look. But all he did was flash her a roguish smile.

"I have an idea," he told her mysteriously.

"Hey!? Ursla!?" the Man yelled.

"What are ya' up to?" she whispered suspiciously, knowing that twinkle in his eye could only lead to trouble. But he only held a up a finger, motioning for her to keep quiet and giving her a conspiring wink before turning his attention to the door as the Man behind it gave another series of loud knocks.

"Hey! Ya in there!? I ain't got all damned day!" came the muffled and impatient voice again.

Ursla watched as Gimli took a deep breath, quickly realizing that he was going to answer for her, but she was surprised when instead of pitching his voice high, he deepened his already deep voice until it was a very low scratchy baritone as he spoke. 

"Hang on now! I'm not done gettin' pretty for ya! Let me be pickin' this last nose hair! Damned things seem ta grow over a foot, every night!

Ursla gave him a look of silent mock outrage, and smacked him on the shoulder, before having to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. There was a long pause from the door, before the Man spoke again.

"Ah...um…forgive me, but…um….I seem to have gotten the wrong room! Sorry for the trouble…um…Ma'am!" This was followed by the sound of quickly retreating feet in the hall.

"Ouch! You're terrible!" she admonished him through her giggles, before snatching one of her pillows off the bed and beating him with it. All Gimli could do was laugh helplessly, while trying half-heartedly to shield himself from her attack. Eventually she wore herself out and they both lay panting on the bed, chuckling and snickering, before Ursla finally sat up.

"Oh! I've been needin' that. But, I wish ya 'adn't done that. Now I'll be owin' Elisi another favor. And I be needin' all the coins I can be gettin'," she said with a tired sigh.

It was quiet for a few moments as Gimli sat up as well and thought about her words. It was then that his eye caught sight of the dirty sack, still sitting in the corner where he had tossed it the night before.

He had just found the perfect use for the gold, _why in Middle-earth he hadn't thought of it before!?_

"No you don't, not anymore," he said, turning to look at her before getting off the bed and walking over to the corner of the room, motioning for her to follow him. Ursla looked at the Dwarf curiously before giving a shrug and getting up to go after him.

"I nearly forgot! I brought you back something," he told her mysteriously, as they both stood looking down at the filthy and stained sack.

"Go on-- open it," he urged her, squatting down as he watched her bend over and gingerly begin to undo the rope that held the sack closed. The uncertain yet curious look on her face, and the slight distasteful wrinkle of her nose at the feel of the dirty and stiff material, told him she had absolutely no idea what was in it.

When she finally opened it she gave a huge gasp, one hand flying to her mouth, the other to her chest in shock before sinking slowly to the ground, her dark skirts pooling around her.

"It's yours, all of it." 

She stared wide-eyed at the large sack of gold before turning to look at the grinning Dwarf now kneeling next to her. 

"But I can't-- it's too much!" she said shaking her head. "We'll split--," But Gimli only shook his head, holding up his hand to interrupt her.

"No, this is all yours. Myia told me how you saved up and bought Shala's then her contract from the brothel. Shala-- she had big plans. She and Myia were savin' up their wages so they could buy your contract and you could come to Black Hollow, then after about a year or two you three could pool your money and leave to anywhere you wanted and start up an inn somewhere. Before Myia left with Dreak, she made sure to leave her share of their saved wages with Shala. As you know, things…things didn't work out the way she had planned…. 

"But, in a way you can make Shala's dream come true. Now you can buy your own contract and do whatever ya want! You won't ever have to work in places like this," Gimli said motioning around the room, meaning the brothel. 

"I ask only one thing, Ursla…" he said, looking back at her.

"Anythin'!" she managed to squeak out, her painted lips trembling.

"Take Gwen and Rayden with ya when you do go."

She gave a nod of her head, tears running down her face. "I was already plannin' to. There's so much… We can start an inn, just-just like m-me Shala wanted!" she cried.

"Shhh, don't cry Ursla," he gently admonished her, wiping away her tears with his broad fingers and giving her a lopsided smile. "You're supposed to be happy."

She gave a watery laugh as she looked back at him, then leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a crushing hug.

"But I am! Silly! Thank ya, Gimli, you're my Dwarf in shinin' armor!" She released him and scrubbed at her tears with sniff.

"I'd give you the sun, if it were in my power. You have shown me such kindness, Ursla," he said, his smile faltering before falling altogether. 

He looked at her with haunted and frightened eyes, as if suddenly fearing her thoughts of him, and an urgent need to confess his sins to her judgment took hold of him.

"Kindness that I don't deserve. Ursla, when I was….I--I…I saw a part of myself that truly frightened me. I killed--slaughtered all those Men, and I reveled in it! In every scream of agony, I basked in the terror I saw in their eyes. They were not warriors, just thugs, just opportunistic peasants…but I didn't care. I became something I know not. I was so blinded… killed an innocent-- a mere boy, without a thought or care! If…if you had seen what I did, you would turn away from me--"

"Shhhh," she hushed him, putting a slender hand gently over his mouth to halt his words. She waited until he was silent and looking at her before moving her hand to caress his cheek, her blue-gray eyes gazing at him not in disappointment or judgment, but with compassion and sadness.

"I won't be tellin' ya what ya did was just. I won't tell ya it's all gonna be flowers and wine from here on out…'cause we both be knowin' it won't," she told him in a soft yet firm voice, looking him right in the eyes.

"But ya can't be lettin' that eat ya up! Don't let this be turnin' ya into somethin' your not! Ya gotta take that part of youself, no matter 'ow dark, and be makin' yourself the stronger for it. Don't let the demons of your heart taint who ya truly are," she told him, before letting her hand drop as she turned away from him. She looked down with suddenly haunted eyes at her limp hands now resting in her lap, her dark hair curtaining her pale face from Gimli's silent gaze.

"Miss D was right with what she be sayin' last night; we all have our own dark pasts," she said quietly, her smooth voice sounding startlingly tired. Gimli remained quiet as he listened to the dark-haired Woman beside him.

"When I was nineteen summers, our Ma died of the coughin' sickness (1.). Shala was fifteen summers, but Myia was only ten-- our Da had walked out on us a long time ago by then. So we went ta stay with me Mother's elder brother. 

"We were there 'ardly a week when the bloody bastard started comin' into me room. I managed ta fight 'im off that first night. I bloodied his nose somethin' awful! I remember…I was so proud of meself! Course that changed the next night," she said with a bitter laugh. Gimli continued to listen quietly, feeling a hot anger sear in his belly, directed at Ursla's uncle.

Attacking and taking advantage of members of your very own kin was utterly unspeakable, one of the greatest dishonors one could do. But rape, while very rare, was one of the ultimate crimes in Dwarven society, and the rape of a female resulted in an instant and painful death sentence. 

"Wasn't long before I was with child, and even that still didn't stop 'im. Don't know how, but I-I somehow managed ta hide it; not even Shala and Myia noticed. Towards the end people just thought I was gettin' fat," she said with an emotionless laugh.

"I was walkin' down to the river ta fetch some water for dinner when the birth pains came. Gave birth right there in those tall reeds, half in the water, bitin' me hand so no one would be hearin' me scream. Don't remember 'ow long, but by the time it was over the water was all red and I held 'him' in me arms.

"He was so beautiful…so perfect… Valar, he was just so beautiful…

"But me vengeance just couldn't be quenched-- that beautiful little bundle represented everything that 'ad happened ta me. The humiliation, the betrayal…me anger. He was so beautiful and sweet, but…but I couldn't bear ta touch 'im...ta look at 'im.

"So…so I gave 'im to the river. I drowned me very own baby in that bloody river…I murdered my baby!" she finished quietly with a sob, still staring down at her hands.

Her last words seemed to echo in the quiet room. Gimli said nothing; what could he say? So he just sat there watching her in silence, his heart aching for her, seeing the raven-haired Woman in a new light.

"I've never told no one that, not even Shala or Myia. Just couldn't be facin' 'em…they trusted me. Trusted me ta be there and look out for 'em. I just couldn't face 'em, so I pretended nothin' happened. 

"That same night, while me uncle was passed out from drink, I stole all his money and packed the only food in the 'ouse, then went and woke both me sisters up. We left…never saw that bastard again. Heard tell he got himself hung for stealin' a horse a few years back. Valar rot that Man's soul!" she spat, her hands clenching into fists.

"Am I just some black-hearted beast that should be dragged out in the street and killed for what I done? Does that be makin' me some evil… thing, Gimli?" she softly demanded, turning to look directly at him. 

For long moments all was quiet as they looked at one another, both still kneeling on the wooden floor of Ursla's room with the sack of gold in front of them, as the sounds of children playing in the street below drifted through the open window.

Gimli could say nothing, no words could articulate his thoughts and feelings, so he decided to let actions speak for him. He shifted and sat down fully on the floor, then reaching out he took hold of Ursla's arm and dragged her unresisting form gently into his lap. Brushing her dark hair from her face, he gave her a reverent kiss on the temple before simply wrapping his muscular arms around her as she relaxed against him, leaning his head against her chest. She sat sideways in his lap, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck, and with a sigh she rested her cheek on the top of his head as she absentmindedly ran her long fingers through his dark copper hair. 

It was quiet in the room for long moments before Ursla finally spoke again.

"We all got our demons, Gimli. Just depends on how we be fightin' 'em. And that we do fight 'em." 

~~~

It was two hours later when the raven-haired Woman and the copper-haired Dwarf finally emerged from Ursla's room. As they walked down the narrow hallway, their footsteps ringing across the polished wooden floor, they were greeted every now and then by the brothel's other residents.

Gimli received a few 'welcome backs' as well as few whistles and catcalls; apparently his new change of clothes was a hit with many of the residents.

"Ooooh! I'm likin' them new duds 'o yours, Master Dwarf!" laughed someone down the hall. 

"Where ya been, sweet-cheeks?" greeted a slender burnette by the name of Terry, with a wink as the two walked by.

"Hey Gimli! Ya get tired of stayin' in Ursla's room, ya can stay in mine," purred Relena as they passed the plump dark-haired beauty, who was leaning in the doorway of her room, clad brazenly in a corset and nothing else. 

"Ya can't 'ave 'im! He's mine, get your own!" Ursla growled playfully, suddenly latching onto him possessively causing the other ladies to laugh.

Gimli, a little flushed with embarrassment at the attention, smiled as he greeted or joked back with them.

When they finally came downstairs and into the kitchen, they could see that four other people were already there.

"Well look who it is! Finally awake, I see-- thought ya be sleepin' the day away," Lady Mavis said, looking up from her cooking as they stepped into the room.

"Nay! I could not stay asleep when I knew that you would be gracing the kitchen with your beauty this day, my Lady Mavis," Gimli said, flashing the plump Woman a wicked grin.

"Oh! Listen ta you!" she laughed merrily, a pretty blush rising to her round cheeks. "Ya ain't foolin' me a bit with that silver tongue o' yours, ya rogue! Ya only down 'ere for me cookin'!"

"Oh, and don't ya be givin' me them big puppy eyes!" she said with a laugh, shaking a wooden spoon at him before going back to stirring the contents of a large pot over the cooking fire. 

"Damn, thought we were finally rid of you! Well, I see like most vermin, you've returned," one of the people at the table sneered.

"I'm happy ta see you too, Ruby!" Gimli told her cheerfully, purposely ignoring her insult, which he knew from experience would greatly annoy her. Ursla, on the other hand, glared and gave the auburn-haired Woman a very rude hand gesture, which Ruby immediately returned. They probably would have started their usually verbal (and sometimes physical) sparring if another figure sitting at the table hadn't chosen to speak up then.

"Gimli! You're back!" Gwen chirped happily, a big smile on her scarred face as she scrambled up from her chair where she sat beside May, doing a happy hop before rushing over and giving the amused Dwarf a crushing hug. 

"Lady Gwen, I'm most happy to see you as well!" he chuckled, gently patting her back.

Ruby just gave a snort, rolling her eyes before pushing away from the table and sauntering out of the room. Ursla was still glaring after her when she suddenly became distracted as someone wrapped their arms around her waist to give her a hug. Looking down she saw it was Gwen.

"Why ya huggin' me, luv? I been 'ere all along," Ursla laughed affectionately, returning the girl's embrace.

"I-I don't know, I'm just happy," she answered shyly, stepping back, her cheeks flaming as she twisted her fingers.

"Well that be soundin' like a perfectly good reason ta me," Gimli said with a smile, giving Gwen a wink as both he and Ursla took seats across the table from Gwen's chair. He returned May's small greeting with a smile and a nod of his head to the blond Woman as he sat down, before Ursla engaged him in a conversation about daggers.

"Gwen, dear? Could ya get the butter out 'o the larder and on the table for everyone?" Mavis asked the small teenager, who gave a quick nod before trotting over to the larder.

"Lunch is almost ready," Mavis told them over her shoulder, after taking a testing sip of the soup, then tossing some more pepper into it.

"I had a big breakfast this mornin', so I'll be passin' on lunch, Mavis," May said, speaking up for the first time, before picking up her mug and draining the last of the coffee in it.

"Suit yourself," Mavis called back with a shrug as she wiped her hands on her apron.

Putting her empty mug back on the table, May pushed her chair back and got up, heading for the stairs. When she strolled past Gimli's chair, he looked up from his conversation with Ursla and gave a sudden sniff. Immediately his nose wrinkled and he gave a grimace of disgust. Quickly clamping a hand over his sensitive nose from the sudden stench, he looked around for the cause of the stink before quickly zeroing in on the small blond.

"By Mahal! Forgive me, May, but ya reek!" he said, looking at her in shock. Having been around and worked with Men over the years, he was no stranger to just how foul smelling the average human was, but such a stench coming from a Woman was something entirely new. "When was the last time ya bathed?"

"Not long, 'bout a month. Why?" she asked, stopping to look back at the Dwarf in confusion, not understanding his sudden reaction. Mavis, Gwen and Usrla said nothing, all of them having grown accustomed to her smell, as well as some of the brothel's other more odorous residents and patrons.

"Please, I beseech you. BATHE!"

"Bathin' so much is bad for ya-- ain't healthy (2.). 'Sides, me clients like the way I smell!" she said, her temper rising. Here she was being told she stunk by a Dwarf, of all creatures! 

"Tis not bad ta bathe often, it's good for you! As for the latter, just proves my thoughts that the Men that come here are all a might 'touched in the head'." 

"Humph! Shows what you know!" she snorted angrily, before stomping up the stairs in a huff.

"I suppose you'll be leaving soon?" asked Mavis conversationally as the small blond left, not looking up as she took a fresh loaf of bread that had been cooling on the counter and cut it into thick slices.

"Aye," Gimli said, giving a nod.

"So soon?" Gwen asked sadly, visibly disappointed at hearing the news of his departure. Gimli was just about to answer her when Mavis spoke up.

"Can't we get ya ta stay for just a little bit longer? A couple o' days, maybe?" Mavis asked.

"Nay, I really must be--" he started to say, before Mavis spoke up again, interrupting him.

"Or I'll be cuttin' up them clothes of yours and ya can just go walkin' through the wilds naked as a jay-bird." Her hands were on her ample hips as she waited expectantly for his answer, the look in her eyes telling Gimli that it was no idle threat.

There was a long pregnant pause in the room, before the wide-eyed Gimli could manage to form a response . 

"But on second thought, I think I could spare a few days," he said finally, while he rubbed the back of his neck.

Ursla gave Gwen a conspiring wink, and as Gimli threw them both an annoyed glare, Gwen only gave a happy giggle from behind her hand. 

"I suppose when ya do go, you'll be heading for Ered Luin?" asked the plump Woman, coming over and setting a bowl of steaming onion soup and a plate of bread in front of him and Gwen.

"Nay, I'll be heading for the Iron Hills."

"Oh? Awful far, that. Why not the other? 'Lot closer, that's for sure," she said as she continued bustling about the kitchen, before turning to Ursla. "Ya want some soup, dear?"

"No thanks, I'll just be havin' some bread," she said, taking a slice from the plate that Gimli pushed in her direction. 

"Well for one, I wouldn't be welcome there," Gimli explained to her, also taking a slice of bread and slathering some butter on it before taking a bite. 

Ursla looked a bit surprised at hearing this, "Why ever not? Thought your Da be related to that Thorin Oakenshield fellow--thought 'e ruled those Halls," she asked as she buttered her own piece of bread.

"Aye, in a way," he said with a nod, after swallowing. "But the Halls of Ered Luin are truly ruled over by the Lady Dis, only daughter of Thrain II and sister to Thorin, and both my parents fell greatly out of favor with her many years ago. That's why my family has been of 'the wandering folk' and not living in Ered Luin all these years," he explained, taking a spoonful of the soup, before turning to look over his shoulder at the plump Woman still puttering around the kitchen.

"My compliments, my Lady Mavis! This here soup is delicious!" he praised, to which she gave a proud smile with a nod of her head before going back to what she was doing.

"Ouch…must 'ave been somethin' awful ta be keepin' that kind o' grudge," the raven-haired Woman said before taking a bite of her bread.

"Maybe if ya apologized to her?" suggested Gwen, looking up from idly stirring her soup with her spoon. 

"Gwen, luv. Eat up, ya hardly touched your soup!" Ursla admonished her gently, and Gimli gave an agreeing nod of his head.

"I'm not hungry," she said quietly, ducking her head a bit.

"Well ya ain't leavin' that table till ya finish up that bowl," scolded Mavis, putting a hand on her hip. "You're such a skinny thing, nothin' but a wisp! Mark my words, you'll be walkin' somewhere and some breeze is just gonna pick ya up and carry ya off like a leaf!"

"I'm sorry," Gwen apologized, taking a mouthful of the fragrant soup. Mavis, satisfied that the teenager was now eating, went back to chopping vegetables for that night's dinner.

"I wish it were as simple as that, Gwen. But it's a wee bit more complicated," Gimli finally answered her before taking another spoonful of his soup; he was already halfway done with his own bowl. They continued to eat and talk, when Sam lumbered into the kitchen.

Sam, who was the brothel's resident bouncer, was a large bear of a Man standing at nearly six and half feet tall. To Gimli's astonished amusement, he had more hair on his back than he did on his completely bald head. But contrary to Sam's hulking presence and big talk, he was a gentle Man and quite the 'softie'.

He was also apparently unable to grasp how a person who only came up to his lower chest, could be stronger than him.

"YOU! I want a rematch!" he demanded, jabbing a finger at the Dwarf, who only lifted an eyebrow at the Man.

"If you two are going to be makin' a mess in my kitchen, I'll have both your hides!" Mavis warned ominously, gesturing with the large knife in her hands.

"No worries, Mavis," Sam promised her hurriedly, before taking a seat across the table from the Dwarf.

"Sam, why do ya keep torturin' yourself? He beats ya every time!" Ursla said in exasperation, sitting back in her chair.

"Silence, wench! This time _will_ be different, I can feel it!" he said, not looking up from glaring down at the Dwarf. Leaning forward, he put his elbow on the table, waiting for the Dwarf to do the same.

Gimli just gave a shrug before pushing his bowl out of the way, then put his elbow on the table like Sam. Ursla rolled her eyes as she watched the two males firmly clasp each other's hand.

"Fine! Be a fool, Sam! But I better not hear ya belly achin' when he makes ya cluck and scratch like a chicken in the middle 'o the street again!" she snorted, folding her arms over her chest, clearly miffed at Sam's brush off. Gwen watched excitedly with big eyes.

"Ya ready, Dwarf?" Sam demanded. Gimli just gave a nod of his head as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. _Hmmmm…I wonder if Sam does a good impression of a duck?_ he thought to himself.

"All right! On the count of three! One! Two! Three!" And with that the large Man threw all his considerable strength into slamming the Dwarf's hand against the table, as he grimaced in strain.

Ursla gave a tired yawn as Gwen happily cheered for both competitors from her seat. "Yay! Go Gimli! Go Sam! You can do it!" Unfortunately for Sam, even with all his confidence, will and strength, he still hadn't moved the smirking Dwarf's hand even an inch back. With his free hand, Gimli calmly picked up his piece of bread and took a bite, watching all the while with amused glittering eyes the grunting, straining, and now bright red faced Man across from him. Mavis shook her head as she watched the one-sided struggle from behind the heavy counter. _Males! Always thinking they had to prove somethin'!_

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" They all jumped as a sudden blood-curdling scream came from somewhere upstairs. This was followed a moment later by Gimli effortlessly smashing Sam's fist onto the table, the force causing the table to jump, knocking over a bowl and other things.

"That be comin' from Ruby's room!" Mavis said, as all of them looked up. The next second there was the screech and crash of chairs on the flagstone floor followed by a stampede for the stairs.

Mavis gave a tired huff as she looked at the deserted table and quiet kitchen, surveying the knocked over chairs, the tipped over bowl of soup spilled on the table and dripping onto the floor, and the plate with the slices of bread scattered. A wide-eyed Gwen was still seated at the table, her bowl in front of her, as she looked in the direction of the stairs where the three had thundered up.

"Drat it all!" Mavis huffed angrily, tossing down a rag on the counter in front of her. _She had just cleaned the kitchen, too!_

~~~

"Since I won, you have ta get this one, if he's naked!" Gimli yelled to Sam, who grumbled, his hand still hurting as they pounded up the stairs before running down the hallway towards the sound of the screams. Getting to the closed door, Gimli stepped back and rammed it with a broad shoulder, causing it to immediately burst open and smash against the wall.

Sam and Gimli leapt into the room, fists up and ready for trouble. Only there wasn't anyone else in the room, except for Ruby who was screaming her head off as she perched standing on a chair.

"Wha--?" Gimli asked in confusion as he looked around the room with the equally confused Sam. 

"Kill it! Kill it!" Ruby screeched at them, pointing to something under her bed as she held her skirts up. The Dwarf and Man looked to see a rather large rat peek briefly out from under the bed before quickly disappearing again, only the scuttling scratching of its feet telling them it was still there.

"I'm a Dwarf, not a cat!" Gimli snorted, dropping his fighting stance and crossing his arms over his chest.

Sam was rubbing his head as he peered around the room, before turning to look at the highly agitated auburn-haired Woman again.

"I told you to keep your door open once in awhile so Mordor and Ginger can come in here," he said. Mordor was a big black scruffy-looking tom cat with a crooked tail and Ginger was a smaller orange female; both of them were the 'Red Blossom's' resident mousers and other pest hunters.

"I don't want those two flea-bitten hairballs in my room!" she yelled angrily in answer.

"Well ya either let them in or the rats will keep comin' in here; damn things live in the walls," said Sam, giving the wall next to him a knock. Just then the rat made another appearance, this time giving an angry squeak before ducking back undercover, causing Ruby to shriek again with fright.

"EEEEEEEEEKKKK!" she screamed, as she did a near jig on her tiptoes on the chair. Gimli almost burst out laughing at the sight of it. 

"What's that, Ruby? A new dance?" he asked innocently, somehow managing to keep a straight face even though his brown eyes were sparkling with barely suppressed mirth.

"Shut your face, you little troll--Ahhhhhhhh!!! DO SOMETHING!! KILL IT, KILL IT!!!" she screeched, her insults forgotten as the rat suddenly scuttled out from under her bed and vanished beneath her dresser that happened to be next to the chair she was perched upon.

"Well? What be all the ruckus?" said Ursla, peering carefully into the room. She'd stayed in the hallway, letting Sam and Gimli asses the situation first.

"There's a rat in Ruby's room," Gimli said, looking over his shoulder at her and jabbing a thumb in the direction of Ruby's dresser.

"Ha! What's the matter, Ruby? Visiting relatives won't leave?" Ursla asked the smaller Woman snidely, as she strolled in to watch the show.

"Listen here, you noxious COW! I'll--HEY! Where are you going!?" she yelled, her attention suddenly moving to Gimli as he made to leave.

The Dwarf paused only long enough to look over his shoulder.

"Sorry, Ruby, I can't help you. Being a fellow vermin and all," he snorted before leaving. Ursla gave a snicker before strolling out after him, leaving only poor Sam to face the agitated Woman's ire alone.

"Damn it all! GET BACK HERE!!!" Ruby screeched angrily after the chuckling Dwarf, who suddenly seemed to have gone deaf.

~~~

At the same time in an alleyway not seven blocks away from the brothel, a group of three Men were gathered around the decomposing remains of a dark-haired Man. The crumpled body lay on its back, its head at a strange angle, and it was nude, no doubt having been robbed of its clothes and boots by the various urchins and vagrants in the town. 

The three Men looked up when they heard the clicking sound of footsteps, and saw two more Men approaching from the mouth of the alley.

One was a rather tall Man with shoulder-length hair and an apple in one hand, the other was younger and shorter with dark hair. All the Men wore deep blue tunics embroidered to show that they were of the local constabulary, with sheathed swords cinched at their waists. 

"What took you two? I told you to be here half a hour ago," snapped the oldest Man there, his mustache and shorn hair salt and pepper colored.

"Sorry, Captain. But that Man the Rangers brought in yesterday was at it again," apologized the younger of the two Men, who had a large slash scar on his face.

"Screaming about that fire-eyed demon again?" asked a blond Man.

"Aye. The poor bastard's clearly mad," snorted the tall Man with the apple.

"I'm not so sure…," said the rangy-looking Man, who was kneeling next to the body, trying without success to shoo away the flies buzzing above the corpse. "I talked with one of those Ranger fellows-- says they found him wailing on the ground with a broken leg in the middle of a big destroyed camp, on the road towards Bree. Whatever those Rangers saw spooked 'em. An entire camp of armed Men and two dogs slaughtered, and get this! They only found one heavy set of boot prints leading away. Who knows? Maybe the poor bastard is right, maybe there really is some 'fire-eyed' demon out there. There still be plenty of evil walking around the wilds of Middle-earth. 

"Don't be gettin' me wrong. I mean he's clearly mad, but I think whatever it was he saw drove 'im to it. Ya know?" Several of the other Men nodded their heads or looked thoughtful.

The Captain gave a nod of his head before turning their attention back to the mystery in front of them. "I agree, but either way the business of the Rangers, and what happens outside of this town, does not concern us," he said, and with that, the topic was closed.

It was quiet for a time as the group studied the body, then the blond Man spoke again. 

"Look at this," he said motioning to the large, almost black bruise on the corpse's stomach. The mark was clearly in the shape of a large fist.

"I swear I've seen somethin' like this before…but I just can't be placin' it…" the kneeling Man said to himself, rubbing his chin in thought.

"His neck's been broke," said the younger Man with the scar, motioning with his chin to the odd angle of the corpse's head.

"Well, whatever did this, wasn't no Man," said the tall Man. He stood looking over the blond's shoulder, eating his apple, and was apparently completely unbothered by the decomposing body or its pungent smell.

"An orc?" he suggested, around a mouthful.

"And how would an orc get this far into town, with no one seeing it?" snorted the kneeling Man, looking up with a cocked eyebrow.

"Could have been one of those Elves, maybe?" suggested the Man with the scar, who was called Ferdirand. 

"Hey, yah!" the tall Man nearly shouted, after swallowing another mouthful. "Remember when Olif pinched that real pretty little blond filly's bum, when that group of 'em passed through a couple of years back? Valar, she was a beauty! And what an arm; popped him one and-- Bam! Knocked out three of his teeth and broke his nose somethin' awful. One hit! 

"Poor bastard was out cold for four days--no lyin'!" the Man laughed, before taking another big bite of the crisp fruit. 

"Gara, ya do know that that 'pretty little filly' was a male?" the blond Man asked

"That's right, what was his name again? Rinder…Hildar…oh! Haldir! Yes, that was it!" laughed Merin, who was still kneeling.

"What!?" Gara yelled, spraying bits of food everywhere. "There ain't no way!" he said vehemently to the other Men, who looked extremely displeased at being splattered with part of Gara's snack.

"Believe, my friend," the shorter blond Man said, his lip curled in disgust as he knocked the half chewed bit of apple from his face and tunic. He glared at Gara before turning to the corpse again. "But that still don't be explaining these marks, and these are fist marks if I ever saw 'em," he said, motioning to the large bruises on the body's face and stomach. "And look here-- at these smaller bruises on his face, see these five? 

"Four on one side and a bigger one on the other--do you see it?" he asked the others, before putting his own hand over the corpse's face for demonstration, careful not to touch the body. "See, it's the imprint of fingers. Whoever it was had large and very strong hands," he concluded. 

"Well, Ron, that still leaves us at the same question. What could have done this?" Gara said around another mouthful.

"It had to be a Dwarf." The other four Men looked to the older Man, who was their captain.

"A Dwarf? That's not possible-- saw a group of them going down the river once, near Bree. They're far too small, there just ain't no way!" Gara said, shaking his head.

"Don't be a fool, Man. Those where Halflings!" Ron said in exasperation, but the taller Man only gave him a glare before turning back to their Captain.

"Well then, Captain, how can you be so sure it was a Dwarf?" Gara snorted.

"I know because, unlike you all, I've had dealings with Dwarves," the older Man said in a flat monotone, not looking up from studying the corpse. "And the worst thing you can do is underestimate 'em. I once saw three Men try and mug a drunk Dwarf down in Shiprock. Staggering drunk, that creature killed one with only his bare fists-- must have broken something inside the poor bastard. Then near twisted the arm off the one that tried to pull a knife; the other one ran off after that."

The young Ferdirand visibly paled at hearing this. "Cricky! Me Da was right! Don't be messin' with Elves or Dwarves if ya want ta be stayin' in one piece, he'd say!" he gulped.

"Good advice," agreed Ron.

"Hey! Now I remember where I be seein' bruises like these!" The other three looked at the dark-haired Man still kneeling by the corpse, as he suddenly spoke up. "Ya all remember findin' Crasus's body awhile back?"

"Ya, didn't he have his throat cut though?"

"Aye, he did. And we just assumed he musta gotten rolled in that alley. But I noticed somethin' odd then; he was covered in bruises, nothin' strange about that, but now that I look at these I realize. Whoever done this fella in, must have done Crasus in!" Merin said, as he finally got up.

"Ya be meaning we got a rogue, murderin' Dwarf on the loose in Ocendade?" Gara said excitedly around another mouthful of apple.

"But that still leaves the question; if this Man and that other one were murdered by a Dwarf… where's the Dwarf?" Ron said, looking around at the others.

"I ain't seen one of them for quite some time," mumbled Merin, scratching his head.

"Saw two of 'em the other day, only passing through though. And they only stopped long enough for a pint at the "White Goat" tavern on the east side o' town," said Ron

"Wait! There's one working over at the 'Red Blossom'-- been hearing down in the taverns how he's roughin' up some of the more rowdy customers. Tossed that big fella Ondren out a window when he refused to leave a week back," said Ferdirand.

"I think it's time we pay 'The House of the Red Blossoms' a visit," the captain said simply, looking thoughtfully towards where the brothel lay with sharp gray eyes.

Part b, coming soon!

(1.) Tuberculosis

(2.) Gross but true. Many people in certain areas in the past believed that bathing was unhealthy. You can imagine just how ripe your average person in Middle-Earth would be.


	10. Of Blue Moons and Falling Leaves part b

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 8b)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for strong language, violence, sexuality and disturbing imagery)

Warnings: Angst, deals with racial bigotry and violence).

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few original characters, Gimli, Gandalf, and other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli while he and Thorin's company were away on their quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli? Then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is a Book-version, Not movie-version.

More notes: Thank you to everyone that commented and has shown an interest in this story ^_^! And a special 'Thank you' to Little My, my fabulous beta-reader! 

~~~

"Of Blue Moons and Green Leaves"

~~~

It was the next day that Gimli woke up sprawled on his stomach in Ursla's bed, feeling the warm furry weight of Ginger sleeping curled up in the small of his back. Ursla was apparently not the only one to take advantage of a warm Dwarf during the chilly nights; with some amusement he could feel the small orange cat's rumbling purr reverberate through his body. Opening his dark brown eyes he found Mordor glaring balefully at him from a few inches away, where the big scruffy- looking black cat sat on the pillow next to his. Gimli just gave a big yawn, then a snorted softly in amusement when the cat flicked his ear back in annoyance at being yawned at.

Hearing movement in the room he turned his head on the pillow, careful so as not to disturb the purring cat still snoozing on his back, to watch Ursla bustle about the room. As usual, Ursla had gotten up earlier than him, and at the moment she was standing naked in front of her dresser mirror, her back to him as she tried to decide which dress she should wear. She was alternating holding up a dark green or black and blue dress to herself, while Gimli just appreciatively admired the view.

Contrary to popular speculation of other races, most Dwarves are not body-shy when it comes to nudity. Dwarves are natural lovers of beauty and that usually included a healthy appreciation for the beauty of form. Gimli found Ursla's pale curvaceous form lovely to gaze upon, but open nudity and other flaunting of one's nicer assets didn't always mean sex when it came to Dwarves. Touching and other intimacies in Dwarven culture were allowed only if invited. And while both he and Ursla found one another attractive, both were just not ready yet for any type of romantic interludes as of yet; they were both still reeling from the incidents of Black Hollow and their own personal pain. 

The raven-haired Woman was holding up the green dress again when she noticed that she was being watched in the mirror, and a smile spread over her face that was devoid of her regular make-up (1.) Gimli always thought she and a few of the other residents of the 'Red Blossom' looked better without it, but they insisted it accentuated what they wanted or covered their flaws, even though Gimli could see none.

"Bout time ya woke up! Here now, what ya think? The green or the blue 'n black?" she asked, holding the dresses out for him, completely unabashed in her nudity. "I want to be lookin' real nice for today!"

"Well…I think ya be gettin' more attention if ya just went out the way you are now," he said with a teasing smile, wiggling an eyebrow suggestively at her, causing her to laugh. Man or Woman, no matter what age or race, it was always nice to be told that one was fair and attractive. 

"But if I had to pick…the green one--but why does it matter which one?" he asked curiously, lifting up his head. His hair was sleep mussed and spread around him, and Ursla watched in amusement as he irritably blew some long strands off of his high-cheekboned face.

"Cause I'm going shoppin'…and you're comin' with me!" she added, staring pointedly at him in the mirror as she put her other dress away, making it clear he had no choice in the matter. Gimli closed his eyes with a tired moan before flopping his head face-first onto his pillow, the movement finally caused Ginger to finally wake up with a big face cracking yawn. Uncurling and giving a long leisurely stretch, she strolled up the Dwarf's muscular back and onto his head before stepping off to the pillow that Mordor was curled upon. She then proceeded to give herself a morning bath, with Mordor leaning over and helping her get behind one of her notched ears.

"Oh, it ain't that bad," Ursla admonished him, but he only gave a muffled and disagreeing grunt as she slithered into her green dress with its black vine embroidered trim.

"Now get up and help me with this damned clasp!" she said as she walked over to the bed. Grabbing hold of the quilt, she whipped it off him, causing both Mordor and Ginger to quickly leap off the bed before both cats strolled from the room. 

"Come on now, up with ya!" she said, noting appreciatively the he had slept in nothing but the black hose she had loaned him, but he made no move from his still face-down sprawl. He gave a grunt followed by a muffled growl when she poked at him, but still he didn't move, so she decided to try a different method.

Gimli gave a loud yelp, rocketing up as Ursla delivered a particularly harsh pinch to his firm rear end, and he turned to glare at her as he rubbed said pained posterior. Trying this with a grumpy Dwarf to get him out of bed was most assuredly a death sentence for most-- but Ursla was unimpressed.

"And I'll be givin' ya another one on the other cheek, ta match the one ya already got if ya don't get your lazy bum out o' bed!" she told him as she glared down at him. Turning around and sitting on the bed, she held her long hair out of the way, waiting for him to do up the clasp she couldn't reach. With a final tired sigh and a few grumbles, Gimli finally got up and knelt on the bed behind her before he reached over and did the clasp for her. 

"Can ya not get one of the others or maybe Sam to go? I just played 'beast of burden' with the shoppin' yesterday with Mavis and Klareoy," he said in a near whine, watching her walk over to her dresser as he ran his fingers through his thick hair. 

"That was for our weekly grocery list. I'm going ta do some _real_ shoppin'! Gotta get some new dresses and I be needin' ta get Raden and Gwen some new clothes--not ta mention shoes! Raden's been without for over a year now…and Gwen needs a new dress--oh! And travelin' cloaks! Near forgot, winter will be around the corner before we'll be knowin' it…" she said, more to herself than to him, as she ran a comb through her hair while she made a mental list of the things she would need.

Gimli just scratched at an itch on his side before getting up and heading for the chair where his shirt and trousers lay neatly folded. Something told him it was going to be a long day as he shrugged on his shirt.

~~~ 

Two hours later, after a quick breakfast of Mavi's famous griddle-cakes, he found himself walking down the busy streets with Ursla and Merry. Merry had decided to invite herself along when she found out about Ursla's plans to stop in at the local tailor's shop for a new dress, as well as some new clothes for young Raden and Gwen.

The day was sunny and warm, the rain clouds having finally expelled all their moisture and disappearing during the night, leaving only the muddy streets and occasional puddle as evidence of their passing. As if in celebration of the bright weather, everyone seemed to be out enjoying it- the streets were once again teeming with people, as vendors shouted their wares and children ran dodging the adults as they played. The sun also seemed to have brought with it many Elves, for a few Elven merchants had set up shop to sell rich flowing fabrics of all colors imaginable, intricate and beautiful wooden carvings as well as exotic foods, wine and other crafts. 

Needless to say this was one aspect of the day that Gimli could have done well without. He would keep his distance, waiting patiently nearby whenever his two companions stopped to look and ogle over the wares of the various Elvish merchants, Ursla giving him a disappointed sigh when he staunchly refused to get closer, simply because the merchant was an Elf. He would also glare openly, his hand straying constantly to one of his axes whenever an Elf came too close for his liking. 

Most of the Elves that did take notice of him would either make a point of ignoring him or glaring right back at him. The young Dwarf even let out a particularly menacing snarl, that startled both Ursla and Merry, when a particularly willowy male Elf, wearing a simple gray tunic and darker gray leggings, walked past them carrying two baskets full of moon lilies. The lithe and light-haired Elf seemed to be lost in daydreams as he sang some sad twittering song to himself, his eyes glazed. Not paying attention, he made the mistake of running into the copper-haired Dwarf (who had also not been paying attention, as he argued with Merry about 'proper' haggling). 

Quickly coming back to himself, then seeing that he had run into a Dwarf, the Elf gave Gimli a disgusted look before sniffing haughtily and turning to continue on his way. But the poor Elf gave a yelp of surprise, springing away like a startled deer when that same Dwarf suddenly lunged at him with a truly frightening snarl. 

The two baskets dropped, spilling the long stemmed white and silver flowers on the muddy ground. The wide-eyed Elf now stood some eight feet away, somehow managing to have avoided knocking into any of the other people walking or watching the confrontation taking place when he had sprung away. He stared in shocked outrage, his smoke-gray eyes flashing in fury at the sight of his dropped baskets, their delicate contents scattered on the ground, and the short-bearded Dwarf that glared at him with dark smoldering and dangerous almond-shaped eyes. It had only taken a step in his direction when it had lunged at him, and its broad hands hadn't even been on either of the two wickedly sharp weapons on its belt; instead they rested at its side in tightly balled fists. Something told the Elf that those large hands were just as dangerous on their own as the two axes at the creature's belt. 

The Dwarf seemed to be silently daring him to come closer, to say anything, and it fanned the hot flames of the searing anger in the Elf's gut that for some strange reason… he had not the courage to dare that step forward.

This was hardly the first time the Elf had run into the stunted creatures over his thousand years in his time walking Arda and he, like his father and brothers, had always treated them the way they should be treated: as inferior and with scorn. So why was this naug different? Maybe it was because the pale-haired Elf had always lived a fairly sheltered and peaceful life with his family in the relative safety of the Elven lands along the coast of Lindon, only occasionally making trips to the nearby settlements of Men with his family to sell flowers and pottery. But this was the first naug that he had encountered that had not simply continued on its way with only a glare or a few mumbled curses; this was the first one to challenge him. 

Something deep inside him seemed to tell him that there was something very dangerous about this particular naug, a whispered warning that this creature was not to be trifled with lightly.

The Elf and the Dwarf continued to glare at one another before two Women that the Elf had not noticed before, one with long black hair and large gold hoop earrings and an exotic long-limbed Woman with rich brown skin, hurriedly began to physically drag the menacing copper-haired Dwarf away. The strange trio disappeared into the sea of shoppers, leaving the Elf to glare daggers after them before finally turning to the sad task of picking up the now dirty and bruised flowers and figuring out how he was to explain the ruined flowers to his elder brother, who was no doubt waiting expectantly for him.

"Gimli! What's the matter with ya!" Ursla admonished him after they had gone a ways away, smacking him on the back of the head, shocked at his uncharacteristic show of bad behavior. Gimli threw her an irritated look as he rubbed the back of his head. 

"I have been scorned and insulted one too many times! Never again will I do nothing as I am looked upon as some foul mongrel, only because I am a Dwarf! Never again!" he promised her, his dark eyes flashing as they remembered all the insults and slights he had suffered in the past. 

"That ain't no excuse! Like me Ma used ta say: hate don't suit no one! And it ain't becoming on a face as handsome as yours," she told him seriously. Gimli said nothing but looked away, now a bit embarrassed about his previous actions-- snobby Elf or not, it had been a hollow victory. They continued to walk for a few moments in somber silence, when the raven-haired Woman looked sidelong at the Dwarf at her side as a smirk pulled at the corner of her burgundy-painted lips.

"But it was awful funny seein' that stuck-up Elf near jump out o' his skin! That'll be teaching him ta think twice about pullin' faces at strangers!" she chuckled, and Merry and even Gimli soon joined un with her infectious laughter as they continued on their way down the street.

The sunny weather seemed to improve _most_ people's moods and their willingness to part with their money; the pickpockets and thieves were also taking full advantage of this, nicking many an unwary shopper's money purse. But only the very brave or very foolish attempted to pick the pocket of an Elf, for their heightened senses would usually quickly alert them to any bent on mischief before they had even got within a few feet of them. So most of the elegant folk were left well alone to shop or sell their wares untroubled. 

Aside from the presence of the many Elves, even Gimli was enjoying the sunny weather as he walked with his two companions. His long thick hair was braided into a heavy copper rope down his broad back, and he was clad once again in his newly mended and cleaned britches and sleeveless crimson shirt. His two single bladed axes clinked occasionally from their accustomed places in their holsters at his hips.

Thanks to the sack of gold that was now safely hidden in her room, Ursla was taking the opportunity to do some long overdue shopping for clothes and shoes for her self, and she was also shopping for young Gwen and Raden. Merry, having gotten some spending money from her lover Lady D, was dragging Ursla and Gimli to look at almost every other vendor that was selling jewelry or anything else that caught her interest. 

Most of the vendors would smile welcomingly, inviting them to look at their wares, but some would smile at Merry and Ursla until catching sight of the Dwarf with them; then their smiles would drop. The merchant immediately knew that they would not be able to pawn off any substandard or flawed jewelry with inflated prices under a Dwarf's sharp eyes. 

Gimli, being the son and nephew of two skilled Dwarven jewelry makers, could tell good quality stones and craftsmanship from a mile away and easily spot flawed or substandard work. Both Merry and Ursla took full advantage of this by constantly asking his opinion on various pieces. Some vendors upon spotting him would wave them away with a glare and a hiss, but most were friendly and cheerful.

"Oooh! Look over there!" Urlsa said suddenly as the three stepped away from looking over another booth, this one selling exotic spices and perfumes all the way from the mysterious lands to the far-east, beyond the lands of Harad.

Gimli was just about to follow the two Women over to another booth, this one selling an assortment of mother-of-pearl inlaid ivory and bone brushes and silver polished mirrors, when he heard someone call out, causing him to pause.

"Master Dwarf!" Being the only Dwarf around, he turned to see who had called as Ursla and Merry continued to browse nearby. Looking behind him, he saw it to be the strange and diminutive librarian and Ocendade's record keeper that had helped him his first day in town, waddling over to him with his Cane. He was dressed much the same as when Gimli had first met him, only this time he wore a green waistcoat instead of blue, and again the young Dwarf could not help but study the strangely shaped human.

"Master Rhaenye," he said giving the diminutive Man, who only came up to Gimli's chest, a proper Dwarven bow.

"You are looking hale! I thought you far to pale and thin when I saw you last. I must say I almost didn't recognize you, my lad!" Rhaenye laughed, reaching up and clapping the young Dwarf on the arm.

"Are you on your daily walk, Master Librarian? If so, I would not want to interrupt--" But the small Man just waved Gimli's words away before leaning heavily on his cane with a tired sigh, as he shook his head ruefully.

"If only, lad! No, I fear I'm out shoppin' with the Wife. Two of my daughters need some new slippers and we need some supplies for her comin' sister," he told him, tiredly and the way he frowned at the mention of his sister-in-law's impending visit spoke clearly of a great dislike for the Woman. But then the small Man gave his head a shake before looking brightly back at the copper-haired Dwarf in front of him.

"But enough about me! I want to know how you've been enjoying your stay in Ocendade-- did ya ever find that Woman you where looking for? What was it…something about her sister, or something?" Rhaenye asked, watching the young Dwarf nod his head at his words.

"Aye, that I did--" Unfortunately for Rhaenye, his wife just happened to come over in the middle of their conversation as she returned to collect him, finally done haggling over some blue-glazed bowls with a tall female vendor. She spotted him talking to someone and, making her way over to them, she was greatly surprised to see her husband speaking with a young and particularly handsome Dwarf. Dwarves were not a common sight in this town and to be truthful she could count on one hand the times she had seen one previously. But as she got closer she finally heard what her husband was saying and she immediately stopped in her tracks nearby, the two still unaware of her.

"--and I must be thanking you again for your help, Master Rhaenye. I'm grateful to you, I never would have found 'the House of the Red Blossoms' if not for you," the Dwarf said, giving her husband a small bow.

"Think nothing of it! I hear tell that the Mistress D has managed to put you to work?" her husband asked, leaning on his cane in interest.

"Aye, that she has," the young Dwarf answered, with a nod of his head as he shifted on his feet.

The small Woman's brown eyes immediately snapped wide at hearing this, her imagination immediately conjuring just what kind of 'work' the handsome young Dwarf could have gotten at the infamous whorehouse. And the poor thing was grateful and thanking _her_ husband for helping him find work there!?

"I've been hearing interesting things about you, my friend. You've been making quite the impression on a lot of 'the Red Blossom's" customers recently!" Rhaenye laughed, giving the young Dwarf a conspiring wink and a nudge in the ribs.

"Aye, seems it's one after the other. I'll be done taking care of one, when another wants a go at it. And sometimes I'm dealing with two or three of them at a time!" the Dwarf said, shaking his head ruefully. 

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle! Dwarven endurance and all that. I must admit that I'm tempted to come for a visit, just so I could watch you at work, I hear it's quite the spectacle!" her husbanded laughed.

On hearing this, her jaw dropped as her mind pictured all kinds of graphic images. _Two or three at a time and her husband wanted to watch!? _It was just at that moment that her husband finally noticed her and happily beckoned her over.

"Ah! Jesra, come! Meet my young Dwarf-friend here," he said, and numbly she came to stand next to her husband's side in front of the Dwarf. 

"Master Gimli, meet my lovely wife, Jesra! Jesra, meet Gimli, Gloin's son," he cheerfully introduced them to one another. Gimli gave her a bow and she curtseyed in turn, purely out of reflex. 

She was blond with deep-seated brown eyes, and she wore a simple but nice grey and blue dress with an empty basket hanging from her short arm. Gimli could see that like her husband she was also small with strangely out of proportion legs and arms; she was also slightly taller then her husband.

"My Lady Jesra, a pleasure," he said, before gently taking hold of her pale stubby hand and bestowing a chaste kiss to her small knuckles. That seem to snap her out of her stunned silence and she took hold of his large hand in both of hers, giving it a comforting pat as she looked at him with utter pity.

"Oh! You poor thing! And still so polite and kind with what you've been forced to do," she cried before releasing his hand.

Gimli looked blankly back at her, his head cocking a bit in complete confusion at the Woman's words and sudden sympathy. He glanced at Rhaenye to see if he knew what she was talking about, but it was clear that he was as mystified at his wife's behavior as he. Just then someone called his name from behind him.

"Gimli!" He looked to see Ursla waving at him; both she and Merry were done browsing. He turned back to the odd couple in front of him.

"Forgive me, but I must bid you farewell and join my companions. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Jesra, Master Rhaenye!" he said, giving them both another bow before trotting off after his friends, leaving the smiling couple behind. They watched him go until he disappeared into the crowd with the two Women, then the pleasant smile dropped from Jesra's face to be replaced by a scowl as she turned accusing eyes to her husband.

"And just how would _you_ know where that whorehouse is!?" she suddenly demanded, hands on her hips as she glared at her now confused husband. It took him a moment to realize what she was talking about before giving an internal wince, knowing he was not going to get out of this mess easily. If his beloved wife was known for anything, it was her fiery temper.

"But Buttercup--" he tried, but his wife was not having any of it.

"Don't ya 'Buttercup' me, ya lout!" she yelled, hitting him with her empty basket. "Leading young impressionable Dwarves into a life of prostitution! The poor thing! What's next!? Selling Elves into slavery!? Apprenticing our children to assassins? My mother was right about you!"

"Wha-- prostitution? Buttercup, it's not what you think--" But unfortunately for poor Rhaenye, his wife was beyond listening as she whipped herself up into a righteous frenzy over his long list of despicable deeds she had had to put up with over the years. Seeing the rather amused looking crowd that was gathering to watch, he made an attempt to calm her down.

"Ummm….dear? Can we please discus this at home, you're making a scene," he begged her in a soft tone, trying not to be heard by the gathering crowd. Unfortunately his idea backfire horribly.

"Making a scene?! I'll show you making a SCENE!!!" she screeched.

Rhaenye could only groan, praying the earth would decide to swallow him right then as his wife continued to rail at him. This was definitely not his day.

~~~

At the same time further down the street, Urlsa, Merry and Gimli walked in the direction of Ursla's next stop, the local tailor's shop. They were just about to turn and go down a street, when Merry spotted a large gathering in the town's main square.

"Look! They're 'avin a play in the square-- that troupe of actors must be back! Come, let's go see!" urged Merry, pulling both Gimli and her raven-haired friend along.

His curiosity sparked, Gimli also looked interested to see what production was being done; after all the last play he had seen had been two years ago, when a traveling troupe had wandered into Black Hollow for two days. Ursla groaned as she let herself be pulled. "If it's another one of them dirty puppet shows (2.), I'll pass!" she snorted as the three made their way into the square, joining the throng.

Little did they know that unwittingly, Merry had saved them from walking into a rather sticky situation just then. For if they had gone down that street, they would have run right into two members of the local constabulary, who were on the look out for a Dwarf.

As they joined the crowd in the large square they quickly found out that it was not another one of the popular lewd puppet shows or another of the local troupe's sketches, poking fun at the town's bureaucracy. Apparently it was a large touring company that had stopped and rented the space for their production of "The Mighty Adventures of the Heroic Prince Mortensen and the Quest for the White Princess Livelda". 

The person narrating the production and clearly the head of the large troupe, was a rather short and plump Man with dark curly and disheveled hair, who, curiously without shoes, perched on a stool to one side of the stage. To Gimli he looked almost like a large and strange looking Hobbit with his bare feet. 

They had apparently missed the first act and had come in late in the second, for the hero and his companion on stage had already left his kingdom to start his quest, and having slain the evil dragon of 'The Fire Swamps', had apparently come into some Hobbit lands. The hero was to meet two Halfling farmers who could direct him to the path that lad to the 'Great Green Forest'. 

They watched as two little boys were shoved out onto the stage, both dressed in clothes like that of the little-folk, someone even having pasted bits of hair to the tops of their small feet (which would have been much bigger and leathery if they had actually been Hobbits). The lead actor began his lines as the two Hobbits looked around. One held a small spade that had been thrust at him before he and his brother had been shoved on stage, as the short narrator did their introduction.

Unfortunately, maybe due to the rowdy crowd or maybe the fact that the other Hobbit was a bit cranky and had pushed him then snatched his little spade, the little red-haired Hobbit began to cry, loudly.

Gimli was laughing along with Ursla and the rest of the crowd gathered there when the other Hobbit began to cry as well, as the flustered actors tried to continue on with the scene and be heard over the wailing and the now raucous laughter of the crowd.

When it became clear that the actors were at a loss for what to do and that the two Hobbits weren't going to stop wailing anytime soon, the plump narrator hurriedly hissed to someone behind the stage, telling them to get the now screaming Hobbits off the stage, before speedily narrating through Mortesen's meeting with the two helpful Halfing farmers. 

As the narrator did this, the red-haired and white-gowned Princess; who wasn't supposed to make her entrance until act six, appeared and beckoned the two Hobbits to her. Upon seeing her, red-eyed Hobbits immediately stopped crying and ran to her (no doubt she was their mother) before the three quickly disappeared off stage.

The crowd broke out in laughter and thunderous applause, and a few cries of "Awww!" and "Weren't they just darling?!" could be heard.

With Mortensen's encounter with the Halflings over, he valiantly continued his quest with his ever faithful servant Bean at his side. After saving a village, nearly dying and then defeating a group of dark shifty-eyed Rangers (3.), Prince Mortensen and his servant came to a dark, flat and badly painted forest (in Gimli's opinion). The narrator then enthusiastically introduced the next character Mortensen was supposed to meet on his quest: the Green Prince Orlando.

Then from the left side of the stage hastily appeared a slender and attractive young Man, apparently caught off guard by an earlier than planned cue, holding a bow and wearing a quiver of arrows on his back. He was clad in a tunic and leggings of green and brown and a long blond wig was on his head, which was made only the more obvious by the young Man's dark eyebrows.

At his appearance there were whistles and squeals of delight from many of the females (and even a few males) in the audience as he began his lines, which were surprisingly few when compared to Prince Mortensen's.

"Who's he?" Gimli asked Ursla, who was standing beside him as they watched the action on stage.

"Who?" she asked, not taking her admiring eyes from the dashing and dark-haired Prince Mortensen. 

"The one in green-- wearing the wig," he said, watching as The Green Prince pledged his bow and decided to join Prince Mortensen's heroic quest to find the fair White Princess Livelda. 

"He's suppose to be the Elf Prince of the Great Green Forest," she answered him, giving the younger actor in green an appraising look before turning her attention back to the older actor, who was picking his ear uninterestedly as the Elf warned him of some dark grave threat of evil nearby. The young actor was cute, but just not Ursla's type.

Gimli gave the Elf Prince on stage an incredulous look as he cocked his head; he just looked like a human to him. 

"If you say so," he said finally with a shrug of his broad shoulders, but he could see it was not a bad effort on the part of the young actor.

The play continued as the portly narrator told of the adventures of the Valiant Prince Mortensen, his faithful companion Bean and his new friend Orlando the Elf. The two Hobbits also made another appearance, this time as regular peasant children who had been stolen by some badly costumed Goblins, at whom the crowed booed and threw things.

As he watched, Gimli noticed that the narrator had clearly changed many things from the original telling of the story, for the young Dwarf remembered hearing the story of 'Prince Mortensen and the Quest for the White Princess' told a few times by some of the Men at the local tavern in Black Hollow with Ulfr, after a long shift down in the mines. For some reason some of the characters seemed to be acting completely differently than the way he had originally heard the tale, and he also noticed that a large number of the characters seemed to have been omitted completely. But even with these blatant changes, Gimli had to admit that it was a very entertaining production, and he cheered and laughed with Merry, Ursla and the rest of the crowd as the evil Goblins were heroically defeated and the children saved from certain doom. 

After all the Goblin's had been properly defeated, the three heroes then came to some grey half-painted mountains on their quest, the narrator telling the audience how for the heroes to be able to cross the mountains they would need a guide to lead them through the treacherous passes. With that, the plump narrator introduced the next character Prince Mortensen was to meet was introduced: the Dwarf, Rhys.

Gimli smile immediately fell when Rhys, the supposed Dwarf, made his clumsy appearance from the right side of the stage before shuffling out and beginning his lines.

The actor was a large older Man who stood on his knees so that he looked shorter than the other actors. Someone had stuffed mounds of padding into his tunic and chain mail to make it seem that he was rather fat. His obviously fake beard was bushy and coarse, dyed a near red color, and forked and braided in a poor attempt at Dwarvish looking braids. They had clearly spent a long time making the actor look like he had a huge nose as well as some warts on his dirty and homely looking face. Instead of a Dwaven hood he wore a heavy and intricate looking helmet. Yet any true warrior could see it was very impractical to wear constantly, which was what the actor did, as it limited the wearer's vision. But that was not the worst part. 

He was loud, he was ugly, he panted tiredly as if he were greatly out of shape, he was a buffoon and everyone was laughing at him, including his supposed companions that he was guiding over the mountains. Almost every other thing he did would make the crowd laugh at him-- even Merry and Ursla were unable to stifle a chuckle at the Elf's comment on the Dwarf needing a box to stand on as another group of Goblins threatened the companions on stage.

Ursla turned to say something to him, but her amusement immediately evaporated when she noticed he wasn't laughing as he watched the Dwarf's antics on stage. She could see Gimli's expression and the hurt that flashed momentarily in his dark eyes as the crowd around them continued to laugh and cheer at the various characters. She turned silently back to the stage and saw what had seemed so funny before was now insulting and hurtful.

After Rhys the Dwarf had clumsily fallen again, rolling helplessly on his back like an overturned turtle and having to have someone help him up, followed by another insulting gag done about his lack of height, Gimli decided he had seen enough. 

Without a word he turned and stormed away, a few people giving angry squawks as he roughly shoved past anyone in his way.

If he had not been so distracted by his anger and hurt, he would have noticed that the few Elves in the crowd also watched the play with unamused eyes, some flat-out scowling. Though their ire was not directed at the Rhys the Dwarf, but at the supposed Elf fawning over the supposed Prince Mortensen, when he was not traipsing around the stage sometimes doing an unnecessarily flashy stunt that would make the humans murmur and stare in awe.

"Gimli! Gimli, wait!" Ursla called after him, as both she and Merry fought their way through the crowds in pursuit of the Dwarf.

"Come now, 'twas not that bad!" Merry said as the two Women managed to catch up with him down a street lined with various vendors' stalls. Gimli suddenly came to a screeching halt at hearing that, and Ursla nearly run into him as he whipped around to give the exotic Woman an incredulous look.

"Alright, it was that bad," Merry admitted, throwing her hands up. "But it's a dark play, they need a little silliness to break it up!" Both she and Ursla had to hurry after him as he stormed off again.

"Then why not have a few laughs at the other characters for once!?" he growled, as he continued his ground eating walk.

"Well…it…it's just…," Merry struggled for an answer.

"It's just easier to laugh at a Dwarf, than a Man or an Elf!" Gimli paused only long enough to snap at her.

"Gimli!" Ursla admonished.

"But come, surely you must admit, 'twas funny!" Merry said, looking between the Dwarf and her raven-haired friend, who immediately winced at her words.

"Aye! It was bloody fucking hilarious!" Gimli snarled angrily, not looking back as he strode off again, the many people on the street making sure to stay out of the angry Dwarf's way.

"But that's not what I meant-- Gimli! Wait up now--!" Merry tried to call after him, only to be drawn up short by the Woman at her side.

"Hush, Merry! Ya said enough," Said Ursla, putting a restraining hand on her friend's shoulder. "Don't worry none about him, he just needs ta cool down a bit," she said, motioning with a jerk of her head in his direction. 

"Why don't ya go watch the rest of the play and meet us at Pherh's shop in an hour or so?" she suggested, watching as the exotic dark-skinned Woman turned and gave Gimli's retreating back an apologetic look before nodding her head in agreement. 

Ursla gave her friend a smile and a reassuring squeeze before hurriedly trotting after the young Dwarf.

Merry chewed on her plump bottom lip as she watched them go until they had disappeared around some vendors' stalls before finally turning back to the square and the still in progress play. 

But as she watched the play with the rest of the crowd, for some reason the gags just didn't seem as funny anymore.

~~~

After two beers, and much arguing and talking at the 'White Goat Tavern', Ursla had finally managed to get Gimli back into good humor and the two now walked in companionable silence down the crowded main street, heading for the east side of town. 

The crowds seemed to have thinned a bit, now that they had left the hoard of shoppers on the main street-- those that walked about this area of town were mainly on errands or going about their jobs. As the two passed the Blacksmith's shop, where Gimli had tried to get a job weeks before, they could hear someone pounding furiously on an anvil. No doubt the bigoted and senile old fool, Bliddyn, was hard at work within. 

He also saw, with a flare of anger, that the weathered sign was still nailed to the large door; the words "DURIN'S FOLK NOT WELCOME" were written with bold letters in the Common Tongue for all to see. 

He glared at the yellowed and frayed parchment as they walked closer, then on a sudden impulse Gimli reached out as they passed the door and ripped the sign down, taking a deep pleasure in crumpling it into a very small ball in his large hands before tossing it over his shoulder and onto the muddy street. 

Ursla gave him a sidelong look, which he returned with one copper eyebrow raised as if asking if she disapproved of his actions. She said nothing but gave him an approving smirk before looking ahead again as they walked. 

She too knew what it was like to be discriminated against. Being a Woman in a male dominant society was hard enough and the title of her profession closed even more doors for her, labeling her as one of the lowest beings in society. It was because of this fact that she planned to leave Ocendade altogether, with Raden and Gwen, and start a new life in some town far away. Because no matter what they did or how much gold they had, in Ocendade they would always be branded as whores. 

A short time later, the two met up again with Merry at the tailor's shop, and what followed was hours of pure bored torture for Gimli. The two humans hemmed and hawed over their new dresses that they were picking up, then they discussed and argued at length with the little pinched-faced tailor over the perfect color and cut of the cloth for Gwen and Raden's new clothes as Gimli sprawled on a chair nearby, nodding off every now and then. Finally, they left with the tailor's promise that Raden's and Gwen's clothes would be ready to pick up in six days' time.

"Well I don't be knowin' about you two, but all that shoppin' just wore me out!" Merry said, stretching her long elegant arms over her head before flopping them bonelessly back to her sides.

"Ya can be sayin' that again. I'm near dead on me feet!" Ursla agreed. She turned to the young Dwarf walking beside her, who was carrying several parcels filled with the various things the two had bought.

"Gimli! Carry me!" the raven-haired Woman whined as she suddenly leaned playfully on him as they walked.

"Carry yourself. Even better--you carry me!" he snorted, looking at her sideways.

"Oh! Ya be so mean ta me!" she pouted, standing up again as she strolled barefoot, her shoes swinging from her hand. She gave a laugh when the young Dwarf promptly stuck his tongue out at her as the three made their way back to the brothel. 

~~~

"Well? What ya think?" Pearl asked, coming to stand on the last step of the stairs and striking a seductive pose, her slippers held in one hand. The three Women in the kitchen looked up to see the tall Woman dressed in a blood red skirt and a near skin tight black bodice with silver trim and no under blouse, leaving her ample bosom pushed up and on blatant display. Her long dark hair was brushed and left loose around her face.

"Pearl! You can't wear that! It's too tight, ya near burstin' outta that bodice," Mavis said, looking at the younger Woman in shock.

"No worries…I'm not going to be wearin' it long," Pearl said dismissively with a smirk, stepping down and into the kitchen.

"Sometimes I wonder why you get dressed at all, child!" Mavis said, shaking her head in wonder. Pearl just laughed as she hiked up her heavy skirts over her shapely long legs and straightened her stockings before letting the heavy material drop back in place and stepping into her backless slippers.

"Well, I must be going," she said, and with that she strolled out of the kitchen, hips swaying, looking more like a cat on the prowl than a Woman going on a date.

A few moments later a loud yelp was heard from one of the outer rooms, followed by a deep voice yelling, "Pearl! Keep ya damned hands to yourself!" and the sound of feminine voice laughter. A few moments later a grumbling Gimli came into the kitchen, looking a bit flustered. 

"Poor Gimli! Is that evil Woman terrorizing you again?" cooed a Woman who called herself Trixy; no one knew the young red-haired Woman's real name and she had yet to give it.

"Aye… I think I'm going to be havin' permanent pinch marks on me bum from her!" he groused with a pained wince as he rubbed his smarting posterior. 

"What ya doin' back 'ere? Thought you, Ursla and Merry gone out shoppin'," Mavis asked the Dwarf as she went back to seasoning and stirring some soup.

"Aye, just got back. Ursla and Merry be upstairs tryin' on clothes," he told her. He then looked back the way the dark-haired Pearl had left before turning his attention to the remaining occupants of the kitchen

"Where she off to so late?" he asked with a jerk of his head.

"Oh, Pearl's got 'erself a sweet'eart. Remember that young blond fella ya tossed out yesterday?"

"The one wearin' the saddle and bridle?" Gimli asked, remembering the incident with a frown on his face. Humans did some of the strangest things when it came to bed-play-- unfortunately he had seen just how strange during his time here. Though he had to admit the reins had made it a lot easier to drag the yelping Man out.

"Aye, that's the one," Mavis said with a chuckle, not looking up as she continued to knead some dough, before apparently remembering something. "Oh, do me a favor, luv? Take these two buckets here and fetch me some water from the well down the street," she asked, motioning to the two buckets by the hearth. The large stone well down the street provided the only good drinking water in this section of town; most of the water that they used to bathe or wash with came from the large rain barrels in the back courtyard.

"I think it's sweet!" chirped Trixy from where she sat at the table shelling peas in a large bowl, her wavy hair held away from her face with a blue ribbon. The dark-haired and freckle-faced Andréa was sitting next to her, also shelling peas.

"Aye, wouldn't be surprised none if we find her gone one day, the both of 'em ran away together during the night! It's so romantic," she said with a sigh, and Trixy nodded her agreement.

"Ahh, ta be young again!" Mavis added, with a smile on her round face as she gave a wistful shake of her head.

"I shudder at the thought of those two perverts breeding."

"Gimli! That's not a nice thing ta say!" admonished Trixy, giving him a shocked glare before flicking a pea at him.

"Wha'? It's the truth," he said, ignoring the green projectile as it bounced off his chest. 

"Don't get me wrong. I like Pearl well enough, but the Woman is a perverted deviant! She's tried to ambush me over six times since I've been here. Last time she wasn't wearing a stitch and wielding a wooden….um…thing. I barely managed to escape!" Gimli gave an internal shudder at the memory as a hot blush crept over his cheeks.

"Well that be explainin' the scream and all that commotion in the hallway the other night," Mavis laughed as she knocked some of the excess flour from her hands before picking up a heavy rolling pin and beginning to roll out the large lump of dough.

"I did not scream! I was just… surprised," he grumped (which sounded suspiciously like a pout) as he snatched up the two buckets by the cooking hearth. He stomped out the back door without a further word, ignoring the snickering from the two Women sitting at the table. 

~~~

It was a half-hour later, and Ema and Mavis were arguing in the large main room. The rest of the brothel was fairly quiet at the moment, making it the perfect time for a quick sweep of the large common room before the next crowd rolled in.

"I'm supposed ta be meetin' Elra and Droamer at the tavern! Can't ya get someone else ta sweep? I did it last time!" Ema whined broom in hand. She was dressed in her favorite dark blue dress which showed off her thick voluptuous form, ready for a night on the town when Mavis had handed the young Woman the broom.

"Oh! Stop your bellyachin' and just be doin' it!" admonished Mavis as she got some items from the deep closet under the stairs, hidden behind a particularly lewd tapestry depicting two badly proportioned Women and a very ugly looking Man. Gimli, a week before, had loudly declared with a laugh after seeing it that either the person that had made the tapestry was drunk, half blind and half mad or that this image perfectly illustrated why some humans just should not breed. 

"You'll be done in two flicks of a badger's tail before ya know it!"

Ema only groaned and rolled her dark eyes at the older Woman's words, watching as Mavis finally got what she wanted and moved out from behind the tapestry, items in hand. She was about to say something when Gimli appeared, his long straight hair in its loose ponytail looking a bit mussed, as if he had been running and ducking something recently. 

"Fear not, fair Lady!" Gimli said, strutting up from the direction of the kitchen and gallantly taking the broom from her. "`Tis I! Gimli, Prince of the Sweepers, at your service," he said dramatically, giving her a deep bow before puffing up his chest and striking a heroic pose, the broom held before him like a lance.

"Are ya sure?" Ema asked as the two Women watched him with amusement, Mavis shaking her head at his antics. 

"Aye! 'Sides, as payment for my heroic deed, you can snatch me one of them cinnamon tarts that Grizalin just took out of the oven before you leave," he said, giving the dark-haired beauty a sly wink. 

"She's chased me out of the kitchen again with the other broom. Apparently she's under the impression that not only do I carry fleas and mange, but I also give warts. What can I say, the Woman clearly loves me!" he said with a sigh and a helpless shrug, amusement twinkling in his dark almond-shaped eyes. This of course made the young Woman laugh.

"Alright! I'll get ya a tart for your troubles!" she promised, before thanking him again and quickly hurrying up the stars to finish her make-up.

"Really now, Master Dwarf! Employing others to steal for you? Tisk, tisk!" teased Mavis, shaking her finger at the smirking Dwarf as she walked past and into the kitchen, a bucket containing a small bag of flour held in her right arm.

Just then the large front door was thrown open and two well-dressed Men came strutting in, both giving a disdainful sniff at the red-draped surroundings, their expensive clothes and superior attitudes easily marking them as some local Lord's sons or nephews. Gimli stopped sweeping for a moment to give them the once over before resuming his work, dismissing both Men as the typical spoiled and limp-wristed brats that would come in every now and then.

"Good day, my Lords," Lady D greeted them, gliding out of one of the entrances behind a sheer red drape. Apparently she had heard them enter and the jingle of their heavy money purses from all the way in her study.

"Celest! Your regulars are here!" she called, graciously giving them a proper bow when each Man handed her a heavy pouch of money. "She'll be right with you, Masters," she told them charmingly, a false mask of pleasantness now on her usually emotionless face.

The two Men simply nodded and began to talk in hushed tones with one another as they removed their gloves and cloaks, the shorter Man also taking off his long-feathered hat. It was a long moment later, as Lady D was measuring the weight of the two small sacks of gold coins in her hand, when one of the Men raised his voice.

"And just what is 'that' doing here?" said the taller Man, apparently taking notice for the first time of the Dwarf that was sweeping nearby.

"That's my Dwarf, Gimli. He's one of my bouncers," D explained dismissively, just as a willowy Woman with hair the color of gold wheat appeared at the top of the stairs. Gimli shot the tall flame-haired Woman a glare, _he was no one's Dwarf! _but otherwise held his tongue and went back to sweeping.

"How quaint-- here," the Man said blandly after a silent moment, and with that both Men tossed their cloaks and the feathered hat at him. Gimli caught them out of reflex, his broom falling to the floor with a loud clank. 

"And mind you don't wrinkle the fabric," said the smaller Man as they walked to the stairs.

Gimli visibly bristled and was just about to tell them both, before showing them physically, where they could put their coats, when he caught the expression in Lady D's storm-gray eyes. They speared him with a look that said _keep your mouth shut or I'll skin you alive_. For as much as she would like to watch the Dwarf teach the two spoiled brats a lesson in manners, they were high paying clients. Seeing this, Gimli painfully managed to stay silent and swallow his anger. Then he decided to take a new approach.

"Very good, Masters," Gimli said cheerfully, plastering a big fake smile on his face and giving them both an overly deep bow. One of Lady D's elegant eyebrows raised at this but otherwise her face remained in its ever present cool mask. The two Men only gave him a superior sniff before both began to ascend the large staircase, towards the willowy Celest waiting for them at the top of the stairs. 

Gimli watched them go, then he calmly walked to the door, opened it and tossed the cloaks and hat out onto the street, before slamming the door. Then dusting off his hands and looking particularly pleased, Gimli returned to pick up the fallen broom and went back to industriously sweeping the rest of the floor.

Lady D watched all of this silently with a cocked eyebrow, one corner of her lip threatening to curl up into a small smile. Then giving her head a small shake, she turned and glided back the way she had come, before disappearing again into her study. 

Meanwhile, outside… 

As soon as the large red door of the brothel, with its creeping vines and red blossoms had shut, a group of children with their dog came up to see what had been thrown out. They gave gasps of delight at what they saw and quickly ran off with their newfound toys.

~~~

It was an hour later in the back courtyard of 'The House of the Red Blossoms'-- several of the residents were doing chores and others were simply enjoying the sunlight. The large tree growing there provided shade to those that wished for it.

Sam was industriously digging a large hole, the start of a new cesspit, in a part of the courtyard that was not covered in flagstones.

Gimli sat on the step near the back door enjoying the sunshine. His broad feet were bare and he had rolled up his pant legs to his knees, showing off his muscular and well defined calves as he waited to relieve Sam when the large bald Man got tired. His hair was held away from his face in a thick ponytail on the back of his head and every now and then he would feel a gentle tug as the person behind him braided the ends of it.

Gwen, after shyly asking to braid Gimli's hair, now knelt behind the Dwarf in her ever present worn blue skirt and bodice, asking him questions as some of the others in the courtyard sang around them. Raden was in the alleyway nearby, crouched with a group of other boys from the neighborhood, playing a rowdy game of dice.

Even Mavis had abandoned the kitchen for a while to take advantage of the weather, and she sat on the step partially under the shade of the large tree as she did some needlepoint. Even the cankerous Grizalin seemed to be in a good mood as she hung freshly washed bed linens on some clotheslines strung up on the far side of the courtyard, across from where the dark-haired Klareoy beat a thick round rug. All three of the middle-aged Women sang a cheerful and mellow song of summer flowers and old loves, their harmonious voices filling the warm air of the small courtyard.

"It's going to get longer?" Gwen asked, still braiding the Dwarf's heavy hair which was as thick and strong as horse-hair, but softer.

"With luck!" he laughed, unconsciously raising a hand to stroke his short beard.

"Is it really true that your kind will die if their beards are cut?" she asked, looking concerned, but Gimli only snorted in amusement.

"No…well no one that I have ever known!" he laughed in answer. "While it's an awful shame, 'specially when one is of the Longbeards clan, accidents do happen. Me own Da's beard is a good four inches shorter than me uncle Oin's, even though me Da is the elder. It's on account of a fight me Da got into in the Halls of Ered Luin, before my parents had me or any of my siblings."

"Oh… well, that's good to know-- I feel a bit silly now for thinkin' that was true. Can…can I touch your beard, Gimli?" she asked, curious as to how it felt especially considering how many old tales and legends were wrapped about Dwarven beards. Hesitantly she reached towards his beard, stopping just short of touching the copper-colored hair before looking at him, silently asking for permission. Gimli just gave her a smile then tilted his chin for her in invitation.

"It feels nice! But different than Old Treize or Master Zeick's beards… it's thick and pretty like the rest of your hair!" Gwen said in delighted surprise, as she petted his short beard along the jaw before going back to braiding the rest of his long hair. 

"That's because we Dwarves grow _real _beards, unlike Men-- like Sam over there, who has that wiry crotch hair growing on his chin," Gimli snorted, jabbing a thumb towards where the large Man was digging nearby.

"Hey! I'll have you know, Dwarf, that this a perfectly good beard!" yelled Sam, pausing in his digging to give the chuckling Dwarf a glare as he unconsciously put a hand defensively to his scratchy goatee.

"Just keep tellin' yourself that, Sam," Gimli snorted.

Just then there was a flurry of activity as several fearful looking Men came bursting out of the back door, most partially undressed. Some just barely missed running right into Mavis, who was still sitting on the step as they hurriedly struggled into their clothes. One particularly portly Man even clumsily climbed out backwards from one of the ground floor windows before flopping to the cracked flagstone of the courtyard, clothes clutched in a grubby hand. 

"Ahhh! Mahal, take my eyes!" Gimli cried, quickly averting his gave after having unfortunately turned his head to look when he heard the strange noise from the window. "By Elbereth, put on some clothes, Man! What in Mordor is wrong with you?!" He smacked a broad hand over his eyes with a grimace, trying to block out the horrible image that now seemed seared in his mind.

"Crickey, Geffius! At least be puttin' on your damned pants, no one wants to be seein' that!" Sam yelled angrily, also having unfortunately gotten an eyeful. He made a point of throwing some dirt at the fat Man as he ran huffing past where Sam was digging. He quickly disappeared down one of the alleys and a moment later a burst laughter and mocking insults could be heard, as poor Geffius ran past the group of teenagers still playing dice in that particular alley.

"Sometimes I think we be running a Madhouse rather than a brothel!" snorted Mavis, looking tiredly resigned as she watched the Men scatter every which way out of the courtyard.

"I wonder what's going on inside?" said Gwen, looking at the still open door from where she knelt behind Gimli, having just finished the final braid.

"Me, too. I haven't seen a place clear out like that since Bombur ate an entire pot of sausage and cabbage stew, couple of winters back," Gimli said, apparently recovering from the traumatic image of moments before. Seeing that Gwen was done he reached up and felt the many braids that now made up his ponytail.

"Well…how do I look?" he asked the others, turning his head for them.

"You look right 'andsome and them little braids make ya look like somethin' near exotic!" said Mavis appreciatively, looking up from her embroidering to see Gimli's new hairstyle.

"Aye, 'specially with them pretty eyes and that tanned skin of yours," agreed Klareoy.

Grizalin only gave a snort. "He still be lookin' like a mangy Dwarf ta me!" said the sour middle-aged Woman, before going back to what she was doing.

"You look so pretty!" chirped Gwen happily, clearly pleased with her work.

"Aye, it's pretty indeed! It's a good look for ya, Gimli! I near didn't recognize you-- thought you were a Woman!" Sam laughed, before making kissy-faces at him. "You're so pretty, my Lady Gimli! Come over here and give us a smooch!" 

Gimli only raised an annoyed eyebrow at the Man in the hole, before turning to the petite teen and giving her a deep bow.

"My thanks, Lady Gwen," he said, flashing her a wink and a charming smile that made her blush shyly. Just then the unmistakable voice of Ruby came through the door. 

"Gimli! Gimli!" The copper-haired Dwarf gave a tired sigh as he rolled his eyes before climbing to his feet and dusting off the back of his pants.

"I suppose I'll go be seein' what she wants-- 'sides, I'm a might curious about what caused our mass exodus a moment ago," Gimli said with a snort. Gwen, who was also curious, got up too.

"Hang on, I'm comin' too! Gotta get that rug from upstairs, anyway," said Klareoy, dropping the rug-beater on the ground and joining the other two before all three disappeared into the house.

~~~

Meanwhile, earlier in the main room of the brothel…

There was a loud clatter of noise from outside before the door to the 'House of the Red Blossoms' swung open and the Captain of the local constabulary came in. Trooping in behind the older Man were four of his Men that he had ordered to come with him, just in case extracting the Dwarf proved to be difficult. Aside from Gara, Ron, Merin and young Ferdirand, several others of his Men had also shown up, uninvited; some were curious after hearing gossip about the Captain's plans, others had simply never seen a Dwarf before. Altogether there were nine of them that had come. While he had not thought so many Men necessary, the Captain went along with his original plan, deciding that the extra Men would be a good show of force in this more dangerous and run-down part of Ocendade. It would demonstrate to these people that even here, they could not escape the law or his watchful eyes. 

Besides, from what he had heard of the mysterious new owner of the brothel, this Mistress D who was no doubt sheltering the rogue Dwarf, it sounded to him like she needed to be taken down a few pegs. 

It just wasn't proper for a Woman to be so independent. 

They had meant to take the Dwarf into custody earlier the day before, but a large bar fight had broken out at the local tavern, followed by a large scale riot in the town's main square the next day where a play had been taking place (apparently it had started when an irritated Elf in the audience threw a potato at one of the actors, knocking the young Man out). Both incidents had kept the officers busy and set them back.

Upon seeing the local constable and his Men, many of the brothel's customers that had been lounging in the red draped main room scrambled up before quickly scuttling out the door, many hurriedly struggling into their clothes and cloaks, some re-buttoning their trousers. A few of the working Ladies stared at the officers for a moment in surprise as their clients beat a hasty retreat, then quickly disappeared up the stairs or through the various entrances to warn the other residents of the brothel; a large group of the local constabulary showing up was not a good sign in this neighborhood.

A petite blond Woman, having heard the door open but apparently not hearing the hurried exit of her fellows or their client, came strolling out from one of the red-curtained entrances to welcome them. But she immediately froze upon seeing the amount of officers wearing blue tunics now standing in the brothel's main entrance. May was just about to turn and duck back the way she had come, when the graying Captain spotted her.

"You there--Woman! Come here!" he barked, motioning sharply for her to come closer with one of his gloved hands. May winced, internally cursing herself for not having turned back sooner before taking a deep breath, steeling her nerves and putting on her best work-face. She then casually walked over to the group, a seductive smile now on her painted lips as she twirled the end of one of her two long braids.

"Greetings! What can I do for all you… strapping officers?" she purred, batting her eyelashes coyly as she came to stand before the Captain. He and some of the Men seemed completely unimpressed, but a few of the others looked decidedly interested, taking in her partially dressed form, and young Ferdirand blushed a bright red as he suddenly found an old stain on his tunic fascinating.

"Tell me. We are looking for the Dwarf that works here. Where is he?" the Captain ordered her in a flat tone, his grey eyes seeming to look right through her.

"D-dwarf? We don't hav-- I don't know what you're talking about! We don't got no Dwarves here!" she denied in a rush, her 'work' facade momentarily faltering. There was an unspoken code of loyalty between those that lived and worked at the 'Red Blossom' and since the strange copper-haired Dwarf had come to stay under their brothel's roof, he had become one of the family as it were and so was protected under that code.

"Don't lie to me, Woman! Where is he? And where is your Headmistress-- where is D?" he demanded, his craggy face showing his growing irritation as he glared at her. May gave a nervous gulp, her heartbeat speeding up in her chest. She tried to keep calm as she continued to deny any knowledge of Gimli, who she knew was in the back courtyard with little Gwen, Mavis, Sam and a few others, enjoying the sunny weather.

"Really, Master Constable! I...I don't know what you're--eep!" May gave a scared squeak when the Captain, finally fed up with her denials, reached out and grabbed her right arm in a painful grip of iron, dragging her close.

"Listen, whore. I have little patience. Now where is the--" But whatever he was going to say was forgotten as a smooth voice laced with the sharp ring of steel rang out.

"Release her this instant, Dagor! I don't take kindly to people threatening my girls, no matter how important that person _thinks_ they are."

The Captain (who was immediately annoyed that someone had addressed him by his given name rather than his title, a clear insult), May and the rest of the officers turned to see the regal and imposing form of Lady D herself glide menacingly into the large room from a entrance hidden behind a red curtain, her ever present black fan in hand.

The Captain released May, who made a small relieved noise as her arm was suddenly freed from the painful grip of his callused hand before quickly escaping to a safe distance, as he watched the tall elegant Woman's approach. _So this was the infamous Lady D_, he thought to himself.

She glided up to him, coming to stand but a foot away, and looked him directly in the eye. She was nearly as tall as he, and her storm-grey eyes were as cold as ice. She was a little caught off guard at the officer's sudden entry, but it was not wholly unexpected either; she had known it was only a matter of time before the constable would show up, even without the added issues of the young Dwarf she harbored under her roof. 

With a sharp echoing snap, that caused the Captain to give a small jump, the black fan she held was suddenly open and she began to softy fan herself, a sure sign that she was greatly irritated and it was best to tread carefully. The sudden image of crashing ocean waves during a dark storm came unbidden to the Captain's mind, and he shivered involuntarily before gathering his anger about himself as a shield .

"You will address me properly, Woman!" he snarled quietly at her, his eyes flashing in warning as they faced off. _How dare she address him by his given name, who did she think she was!? _He was usually a very cool and aloof personality but there was just something about the Headmistress of the 'House of the Red Blossoms' that utterly vexed him-- if there was one thing he hated it was uppity Women, who didn't know their place! But what would have had most people cowering, including his wife, children and even his own Men, seemed to have no effect on the elegant Woman in front of him. She looked him directly in the eye with a glare of her own, completely and utterly unimpressed.

"I will address you anyway I see fit when you are in _my_ establishment, Dagor," she answered, her smooth voice holding the undertone of ice. The others around the room, including the Captain's Men, could only stare silently as the two faced off, the air crackling with tension. It was a long moment later that the constable finally broke the harsh silence.

"We're here for the Dwarf-- hand him over! We know you're harboring it!" he ordered her.

"I will do no such thing," she answered him simply, and the Captain visibly stiffened.

"You don't seem to understand, that Dwarf is a menace! It's already murdered two people in my town, and it's clearly only a matter of time before he does it again!" 

"Of course I know of what he's done; I was the one to order him to do it!" she snorted dismissively, watching as he balked noticeably at hearing this.

"Wha- Do you have any idea of what you are saying!? You'll share the Dwarf's fate--!"

"You'll do nothing to me and we both know it," she told him tiredly, interrupting him again.

That was apparently it for the Captain. He stepped forward and grabbed her left arm, causing a loud gasp from the various Women of the brothel that had been gathering to watch, with the intent of yanking her close so he could yell angrily in her face. Just then the temperature seemed to suddenly drop several degrees as warning bells went off in his head.

"If you do not remove your hand… you will lose it," the flame-haired Woman warned ominously, in a suddenly menacing voice that sent a chill down his spine. The black fan had stilled in her hand and all pretense of pleasantness vanished from her as she sent him a look that would have frozen boiling water. He had greatly over-stepped his bounds and the Captain suddenly found himself immediately releasing her as if his fingers had been burned.

"You forget yourself, Master Constable," she said, gently fanning herself once again. "We know the Lord will never allow me to be jailed or hanged; he gets far too much gold from this brothel in taxes each year." She cocked one flame-colored eyebrow, then moved closer to him and dropped her voice so that only he could hear her next words.

"Besides, Master Constable….I hold not only your job, but your very life in my hands. Imagine if it got around just exactly who you were before coming to this town? Or what your lovely wife and our Lord--your father-in-law-- would think if they found out your… _particular _tastes in bed partners?" With much satisfaction, she watched as the older Man froze, the color draining from his face at her quiet words.

"Tell me, Dagor. You have two boys now, don't you? Ten and thirteen summers, if I'm correct…strange how that young lad you bought a night with, in that small brothel down in Bree a few weeks ago, was ten summers too. And he wasn't the only one…was he? Goodness, Master Constable! You do like them young, don't you? Or maybe… it's because they looked so much like your own two lovely boys?" she continued, her eyes narrowed as she took in his now wide-eyed and ashen face. 

"You wouldn't dare!" he hissed angrily, keeping his voice quiet so only she would hear, sounding clearly shaken. A small smirk curled at the corners of her lips.

"Try me," she said simply, before stepping back and turning away from him.

"We will discuss this matter and the matter of the Dwarf in a more private setting. Come into my study, Master Dagor," she said in a smooth voice, though it was clearly not a request as she motioned for him to follow her. She glided back the way she had come, without looking back even once to see if he would follow.

The Captain watched her disappear behind the red curtain, annoyance and anger flashing in his dark eyes, clearly not used to having to deal with a Woman such as she, who was certainly his equal, if not better. He glared after her for a long moment, fire burning in his gut, before looking to his waiting Men.

"Do nothing until I return! If you see the Dwarf, just make sure he doesn't escape!" he barked to the group before turning back and following the flame-haired Woman, leaving the Men to mill about in the entryway as they talked amongst themselves.

It was then that a figure walked out from a shadow behind a large tapestry where she had been listening with interest, unnoticed by all. Hearing the swish of heavy skirts and the soft tread of feet, Gara, Ron and a few of the other Men looked up to see an attractive Woman, with a thick main of auburn ring and wearing a red bodice and a dark brown skirt, glide up to them, a mysterious smile on her heart-shaped face.

"So… I hear you're looking for a Dwarf?" she purred, coming over to stand in front of Gara and making a point of reaching out and smoothing some wrinkles from his blue tunic. This of course caught the attention of the Men, and most especially Gara.

Some notes:

(1.) Make-up is ancient, people have been using it even before the ancient Egyptians. So it's not long stretch that people in certain areas of Middle-earth would use it too.

(2.) Puppet shows where originally for adults, its only in the last century that it's been used for the entertainment of children.

(3.) Rangers are greatly misunderstood and not well thought of in curtain areas like Bree (as seen when Frodo and the others go their and encounter Strider), many people scorning and fearing them. Apparently having no idea just what the Rangers do for them.


	11. Of Blue Moons and Falling Leaves part c

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 8c)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for strong language, violence, sexuality and disturbing imagery)

Warnings: Angst, deals with racial bigotry and violence.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few original characters, Gimli, Gandalf, and other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli while he and Thorin's company were away on their quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli? Then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is a Book-version, Not movie-version.

More notes: A huge applause to Little My ^_^ ! For being my wonderful beta-reader and for doing a fabulous job of cleaning up and editing this chapter *bows at her feet*!

And a big thank you! To all the people that left and emailed me all the lovely reviews and comments! Thank you very much!

~~~

"Of Blue Moons and Green Leaves"

~~~

"You know where it is, Woman?" Gara asked, looking down at her and watching as a wide toothy smile broke over her heart-shaped face.

"Of course I know where the little troll is. I'll even take you to him!" she said helpfully, stepping away from the tall Man as he looked at his fellow officers and seeing nods of agreement at his unspoken question. May, Terry, and a few others gathered nearby, jaws dropped in disbelief as they watched Ruby motion for the Men to follow her.

"Just come with me and I'll take you to him," she said sweetly to the officers, before loudly calling out for the Dwarf. "Gimli! Gimli!" 

She hadn't led them more than a few feet towards the kitchen, when Terry, finally spurred into action, darted over to the auburn-haired Woman. 

"What are you doing!?" she hissed, putting a restraining grip on Ruby's arm and looking at the other Woman as if she were mad. But Ruby only ignored the thin brunette, sharply shaking off Terry's hand as she once again beckoned the group of Men to follow her.

In that moment it just so happened that Gimli, hearing his name called and curious as to what had caused so many of the patrons to leave, came out from the large entryway to the kitchen, both Klareoy and Gwen trailing behind him. Gimli immediately froze at the sight of the officers, stopping so suddenly that Gwen actually ran into him, almost falling back with the force of her collision with the solid immovable object in front of her. Luckily Klareoy reached out in time to steady her.

Everyone in the room paused as they stared in surprise at one another, and for several long moments no one said anything. Then Ruby, with an impatient huff, broke the tense silence.

"Well? Are ya all just going to stand there? There he is!" Ruby yelled at the uniformed Men as she pointed at Gimli, who spared her a brief glare before turning his full attention to the main threat in front of him.

"That's a Dwarf?!" one of the Men said incredulously.

With the exception of Ron, Merin and another Man called Rafe, none of the other the officers had ever seen a Dwarf, and even the dark-haired Rafe had only seen one from a distance several years back on a lonely road towards Bree. Small, scruffy-looking, with a long scraggily brown beard, its clothes and hood looking worn and torn-- he had automatically assumed that all Dwarves must look as such as he had watched the poor old thing stumble down the road. Looking back on it, Rafe now realized that there had clearly been something terribly wrong with that creature all those years back, if the one that now stood in front of him was any comparison.

This was not the small Hobbit-sized, short-limbed and round-bodied being, with beady little eyes and a mass of bushy beard of the stories and jokes they had all heard. Nor the wrinkly, swarthy-skinned and ugly old creature, with a long beard that dragged the floor and a large beak-like nose, its greedy and shifty eyes always on the lookout for gold. No, this being was nothing like that.

The strange, stocky, tanned and muscular creature in front of them stood at five feet, much taller than many of the officers would have expected. It wore only a sleeveless crimson-colored shirt and a pair of trousers that had been rolled up to its knees, leaving its calves and broad feet bare. It had a short, neat beard that matched the long mane of dark copper-colored hair that was held away from its shockingly smooth and strong-featured face in a thick ponytail on the back of its head. Its arms and legs were anything but stubby, instead they saw limbs corded with powerful muscles from years upon years of hard labor. No fat round belly, but a flat muscular abdomen; not an ounce of fat could be seen as it glared at them with large dark almond-shaped eyes that flashed with surprise, agitation and most of all intelligence. For a long moment there was only silence as they studied one another. 

"Yep…that ain't no Halfling!" 

The other officers gave the oblivious Gara an exasperated look, and the Dwarf turned contemptuous eyes to the Man, his expression showing that he thought him clearly an idiot.

"Stay where you are, Dwarf!" Ron ordered, deciding to take action. At his words, several of the other Men began to spread out a bit. 

Gimli kept a wary eye on all of them, unconsciously flexing his fingers as he shifted on his feet, as a worried murmur started amongst those who had gathered to watch. Gwen chewed on her bottom lip, nervously twisting her fingers as she peered meekly over the Dwarf's shoulder. Klareoy remained silent and still as she cautiously watched the events unfolding, her dark eyes that darting around the room.

"What do ya think they'll do with 'im?" asked the youngest officer, watching with great trepidation the play of large heavy muscles just under the Dwarf's tanned skin. He did not want to be the first to find out just how much power was coiled in those arms.

"What do ya think, Ferdirand? What does Ocendade do with rampant murderers?" Ron snorted to the young Man before turning to look at Gimli with a sneer. "It's gonna be off to the gallows with you, Dwarf!" 

Gimli suddenly had an image of himself swinging from a rope, just like Rowell, sickly pale with maggots dribbling out of his empty eyes. Hanging was a horrible way to die, especially for a Dwarf, whose thicker muscular necks and stronger more reinforced vertebrae meant that it took much longer for them to finally be choked into unconsciousness-- they could still be conscious and struggling for over an hour or more. 

His broad hands curled into tight fists, his pulse quickening. _No_! He would not go willingly to that fate; he would fight them all--_every Man in the whole damned town if he had to!_ They'd have to drag him dead or unconscious to the gallows… but just then an anguished voice rang out, shaking him from his thoughts. 

"Noooo!" Gwen cried, stepping protectively in front of the surprised looking Dwarf, her slender arms outstretched as if to bar their way. "Leave Gimli alone! You can't do that--you're lying! Klareoy, R-Ruby…the-they can't, right?!" she begged, turning scared and desperate eyes to the other two Women but still not moving from her position. Many of the officers looked confused and disturbed by the small scared teen's heartfelt actions, while Gimli tried to think of a way to get Gwen quickly and safely out of the way if the officers tried to charge him.

"Step aside! Can't you see we are doing this for your own safety? That creature is dangerous!" said Gara, jabbing a finger at the Dwarf behind her. 

__

You have no idea, human! Gimli thought to himself at the Man's last words.

"No!" Gwen yelled staunchly, not budging an inch.

"Don't be a fool, girl!" Ruby snorted as she rolled her kohl-lined eyes, throwing the teenager an irritated glare before a nasty smirk stole over her face. "Haven't been to the second square lately, have ya? There's an eleven-year-old pick-pocket dangling as we speak (1.)! I was there when they carried him up those steps kicking and screaming as they prepared the rope---!"

Her next words were suddenly cut off as her head snapped to the side with the force of the loud echoing slap that had connected with her cheek. Everyone froze in shock, even the Men, and Gwen put both her hands to her mouth, her large doe eyes wide. Gimli stared in surprise at Klareoy who was glaring down at Ruby, her hand still raised from the blow she had given her. With a startled gasp, Ruby put a hand to her red and stinging cheek before turning shocked eyes to Klareoy, brimming with tears of pain. 

"Shut your mouth, Ruby!" Klareoy snarled, when Ruby opened her mouth to speak. "Ya already done plenty enough, ya spiteful snake!" 

The disgust and disappointment in Klareoy's voice, the stares of the officers, the strange unidentifiable look in Gimli's piercing gaze, and the fright and confusion now shining in Gwen's large eyes was apparently too much for Ruby to take as she looked around at all the faces staring at her. Her mouth opened as if to say something as her plump bottom lip trembled and the kohl around her eyes began to run. Maybe in that moment as she looked around, suddenly feeling like an outcast, she realized just what she had done. 

They all watched as the auburn-haired and red-faced Woman suddenly fled, shoving past them all to run out of the room, tripping over her own heavy skirts in her haste to get away. No one spoke, and when Ruby had disappeared up the stairs, Klareoy turned a dark accusing glare to the Men gathered there.

"As for you all, a fine pack of cowards and bullies! Ya say the Dwarf's a murderer and ya only doin' ya job for our safety!? Lies!!" she spat at them with pure venom.

"Where were you when Gracy was murdered last fall! Where were you when we found Enwa chopped to pieces in that rubbish heap two blocks down!? Where were you when we begged you to stop Crasus!? Where were you when that bloody bastard cut up that child's face!?" she demanded, her dark eyes narrowed with righteous fury as she pointed to a wide-eyed Gwen, who unconsciously put a hand up to touch the disfiguring scar that pulled up the left side of her mouth.

Most of the officers couldn't meet the older Woman's hard gaze, but some just rolled their eyes. Gara finally let out an exasperated sigh before uncrossing his arms and pushing Klareoy out of his way, causing her to stumble a few feet back. 

"I've heard enough of your prattling, Woman! Out of the way!" he ordered as he walked past her, his eyes glued to the glowering Dwarf.

Gimli immediately went on guard, then as subtly as he could, he stepped forward and nudged Gwen away from him, She turned to look at him in blank confusion, not understanding his actions, catching Klareoy's eye, he motioned for her to get the teen out of the immediate area. His instincts told him it was about to get ugly.

With a nod, the older Woman quickly grabbed Gwen's arm and dragged the confused girl out of the room; she also knew serious trouble was brewing and it would be no place for the petite teenager when it did break out. They left the group of officers and the one Dwarf to face off.

Gimli eyed the Men warily, especially the very tall, dark-haired one in front of him.

"Why are we waiting here? Let's just take him already!" said Gara, having apparently lost all patience. He stepped confidently forward until he was standing right in front of the Dwarf, who only came up to his chest.

"Wait, Gara! You heard the Captain, we're not to do anything 'til he gets back-- only supposed ta make sure he don't escape!" Ferdirand called.

"Gara, you bloody idiot! Don't get that close, you fool!" hissed Ron in warning, but Gara was not listening as he glared smugly down at his much shorter opponent. The Dwarf still had said nothing, but it glared back up at him with darkly glittering eyes.

"Listen here, Dwarf! You're in my town now and we don't take kindly to murderin' Dwarves, Elves, Halfling or anything else for that matter! And another thing! What gave you the right--" 

Ron just tiredly shook his head and the other Men watched anxiously as they fidgeted, occasionally looking at one another. For Gara had already made his first mistake when he got into Gimli's personal space and tried to intimidate the Dwarf with his greater height. But his greatest mistake came when the tall human decided to punctuate what he was saying by jabbing the Dwarf in the chest with a finger.

Gara continued to harshly poke the Dwarf as he ignored everything but his own voice and the self-important thrill of lording his position over another. He didn't notice the Dwarf's flashing eyes narrowing dangerously or the deep menacing growl that had Gara's nervous-looking fellows backing away as the creature began to visibly bristle, baring its white teeth. Law officer or not, five pokes was Gimli's absolute limit.

"--and another thing! If you think that you can come here and--EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" Gara let out a surprisingly high and rather girlish scream when the Dwarf suddenly seized that offending finger before it could jab him again. There was a sharp snap, and Gara wrenched his hand back to stare wide-eyed at his now very crooked index finger for a long moment before looking back at the glaring Dwarf. 

"You bloody little runt! You broke my finger!" he yelled, his disbelief quickly turning to anger. "You little shit! I'm gon--ough!"

Whatever else Gara had been going to say was lost as he suddenly doubled over and fell to his knees, the air knocked out of him when Gimli punched the large Man right in the stomach. That was the catalyst, for with that someone yelled "Get 'im!" and the other Men suddenly descended on him, trying to tackle him to the ground.

He somehow managed to knock away four of his assailants, but by sheer numbers they were able to get hold of him, and they all piled on top of the snarling Dwarf. 

"Get off me!" Gimli bellowed angrily, staggering as he was nearly buried under grasping, hitting, grunting and rather foul smelling bodies. Adrenalin and anger lent him the extra strength to somehow keep his feet as the Men tried to wrestle the growling and cursing young Dwarf to the ground.

Using his elbows and a crushing grip on someone's genitals, he had thrown off two of his assailants when another Man joined the other five already trying to restrain him, grabbing hold of his thick ponytail with the multiple braids Gwen had made earlier. He let out another menacing growl as the Man, using his hair as a lever, wrenched his head back. 

He jabbed his elbow heavily into the Man's stomach, and his hair was released with a loud "Ooff!" The Dwarf then turned to Ferdirand, who was desperately trying to put Gimli's other arm in a restraining lock, and taking hold of one of the human's wrists he squeezed it hard, forcing the young Man to let go with a yelp of pain. Ferdirand quickly stumbled away, cradling his now badly bruised wrist.

Gimli was making sure to hold back, keeping his full strength in check-- he didn't want to seriously injure any of the officers and he definitely didn't want to give them more reasons to have him executed. But having a wrestling match with a group of Men who were all taller than you was challenging, to put it lightly.

"Get off him! Stop this right now!" yelled Relena angrily from nearby. She had just come into the room, wondering about all the noise.

"Stay out of the way, wench!" one Man yelled, shoving the large Woman back into the crowd of other bystanders when she tried to step in and break up the fight. Later on, the Man would greatly wish he had not done this.

"Wench!?" Said Relena in outrage. _Fine! If they wouldn't let her break it up, she'd join in!_ she thought while taking off all her earrings and bracelets before handing them to a surprised May for safe keeping. 

"Hold my gold," she ordered the smaller Woman. Then rolling up the sleeves of her blouse she calmly walked up to the Man that had pushed her and clocked him one right in the face when he turned around, giving him a nasty shiner. 

That seemed to suddenly spur some of the other residents of the brothel to join the fray and help the outnumbered Dwarf; some picked up something to use as a weapon, but most just waded in bare handed. Many were surprisingly good fighters with their fists, many having grown up with brothers or from having to deal with rough customers, and many of the officers were confused and unwilling to fight a Woman. Needless to say, within moments the entire room had turned into absolute chaos.

"Ya be leavin' Gimli alone!" Trixy yelled as she furiously beat on Ron with one of her shoes. The blond Man cringed and tried desperately to fend off her attack, without success.

Meanwhile Gimli was still battling it out in the middle of all of this. There was pained scream as one of the officers received a nasty bite, after making the mistake of grabbing hold of Gimli's short beard. Apparently the local constabulary of Ocendade were unaware of Dwarves' penchant to bite when highly agitated. Now the unlucky officer would have a lasting scar as a reminder, as well as something to tell his children and grandchildren years later.

"You're never here when we need ya! Now ya show up when no one wants you!" yelled Terry angrily, brandishing a broom. She'd joined the fray right after Relena, who had just given a particularly hard kick to one officer's groin. The Man was now rolling red-faced on the ground as he clutched his smashed genitals. 

Hearing the racket, Sam finally lumbered into the room from the kitchen with a surprised look on his face. He stopped only long enough to see that a huge fight was taking place in the middle of the red-draped main room before wading in eagerly. Grabbing the first uniformed Man he came to by the collar, he bodily tossed him towards the brothel's open front door, causing some of the neighborhood's other residents that had gathered there to watch to momentarily scatter.

Thanks to the brothel's residents joining the fray, Gimli was no longer forced to deal with all the officers at once, letting him better defend himself.

He shook off another punch before he gave one blond-haired officer a head-butt that sent the poor human reeling. Stomping with all his might on the closest available foot, he then broke a nose with a striking blow with the heel of his broad hand. The air was filled with loud crashes, bangs, curses and yells.

Normally Lady D would have been right out at the first sounds of trouble, but at the moment she and the Captain were so distracted by their own loud and heated arguing, that they took no notice of the chaos taking place in the brothel's main room. But others were still coming out to investigate the cause of all the noise, including Merry and Ursla who were just now descending the stairs.

"What in Mordor be goin' on down here!?" Merry demanded in utter bewilderment, staring at the chaos before them. Both of them ducked quickly to avoid a flying chair.

"Get off 'im!!!" Ursla yelled. She had caught sight of Gimli beset by attackers, and immediately she went to her friend's aid, shouldering her way past the crowd of bystanders before Merry could stop her. 

Grabbing hold of the hair and tunic of the first Man she came to, she wrenched his head sharply back. The Man hissed in pain and let go of Gimli's arm, turning to face his new assailant.

"Get outta 'ere, ya damned whore!" he angrily yelled, giving her a viscous backhand that knocked her off her feet, causing her to cry out.

"Ursla!!!" Gimli cried. He had heard her cry out in pain, and throwing off his attackers he turned with a menacing growl to the Man that had struck her.

"Rafe! Look out!" someone shouted over the noise.

Hearing this, Rafe turned back just in time to see a large fist flying towards his face before everything suddenly went black. With much satisfaction Ursla watched the Man go sailing through the air, to crash to the ground, unmoving and out cold.

Gimli went to help Ursla up, who was still a bit stunned by the blow she had received, but he hadn't gone more then two steps when he was set upon again by several officers. Luckily, both Merry and the red-haired Bell managed to drag her to the safety of the sidelines where some of the other brothel residents watched, cheering on their battling fellows. 

Gimli had just punched another officer in the gut, causing the poor Man to immediately double over and clutch at his abdomen, when he felt someone come up behind him. Spinning around he looked up just in time to see the young Man with the scarred over his cheek looming over him with an arm upraised, holding a short thick club. Then the arm descended, bringing the club down on his head with a loud 'THWACK!' before the young Dwarf could dodge. 

For a moment everything went dark for Gimli as a strange hush fell over his ears and sparks flew behind his eyes.

The sound of the club connecting with the Dwarf's skull echoed through the suddenly deathly quiet room. Everyone stared at Gimli, who stood with head bowed from the force of Ferdirand's strike, waiting for him to crumple to the floor at any moment. 

But unfortunately for young Ferdirand, the blow didn't have the effect he was hoping for.

For the Dwarf suddenly straightened and shook it's head, breaking the silence with a loud exclamation of "OW!!!"

Gimli gave his smarting head a few more shakes, trying to clear the stars from his vision before reaching up and gingerly rubbing the large knot now growing on his skull. Internally cursing himself for being so careless and not dodging in time, he turned to glare at the wielder of the club with dark menacing eyes, promising certain, painful doom to the one who had hit him.

Ferdirand barely had time to gulp nervously in the face of the glare, before the Dwarf exploded.

"YA BLOODY BASTARD!! I'M GONNA SHOVE THAT CLUB RIGHT UP YOUR ARSE! YA WEAK-ARMED SON OF A--herk!" Gimli's angry tirade was suddenly cut off when one of the other Men came up behind him and grabbed the irate Dwarf in a choking headlock. Another officer seized his arm, then the battle began again as if there had never been a pause. Once again it was pure and utter pandemonium. 

"GET OFF ME!!!!!" Gimli angrily bellowed, nearly causing the tapestries to sway on their hangers with the sheer volume of his fury. He struggled against the restraining hands as he saw Gara approaching with his fist upraised and his face twisted with anger; obviously the Man was still upset about his broken finger. But before he could strike, Gimli delivered a powerful kick that sent the Man skidding backwards across the floor.

Just then Draco sauntered into the room, to investigate the disturbance, and he looked down with surprise as Gara slid to a halt at his feet. The officer quickly scrambled to his feet, wincing and cursing, before taking notice of the figure behind him. 

Whipping around, Gara made to defend himself against this new potential threat, his temper dangerously up. He was a bit startled to see it was not a Woman but a slender long-haired Man, only a few inches shorter then he, with painted eyes and lips and wearing a soft dove-gray robe.

"You're no Woman!" he yelled, glaring at the slender Man in disgust, who only raised an elegant eyebrow in response.

"Oh! Does that bother you?" Gara sneered, taking note of the irritated eyebrow. "Well, what ya gonna do about it-- whore?" he goaded, his already wounded pride and his own pig-headedness daring the other Man to do something.

Draco still had said nothing, giving the bristling Man a calculating glance before sighing tiredly. He did so hate dealing with morons, especially rude ones.

"As I thought! Ya ain't gonna do noth--!" Gara was cut off, as his head suddenly snapped back with the force of Draco's pale fist colliding with his face, breaking his nose and knocking him back to the floor in a daze.

Draco scowled contemptuously at the groaning Man on the floor as he shook out his hand, before giving the rest of the room, with the battle still in full swing, a rather bored look. Then with a haughty sniff, deciding he had better things to do, he sauntered back the way he had come. Seconds later another uniformed Man, this time thrown by Sam, crashed right where Draco had been standing just moments before. 

In the meantime… 

"Hit him again ya fool!" Merin cried to Ferdirand, still struggling to hold onto the angry Dwarf.

Ferdirand was raising the club up for another strike, when he was suddenly struck on the head with a loud resounding 'bong' by a flying (and thankfully empty) chamber pot. 

Gimli watched the young Man crumple to the ground, holding his ringing head. The club lay forgotten on the floor, and it was quickly picked up and hidden by one of the brothel's residents. 

A moment later the grunting Man who had Gimli in a headlock gave a yell of pain and released the Dwarf, as a thrown boot hit him right in the face. Gimli quickly seized the opportunity to grab him by the front of his blue tunic and throw him over his broad shoulder.

"Take that! Ya lily-livered nose-picker!!!" someone cackled from above, as a hail of assorted objects rained down on the attackers. 

Gimli looked up for a moment and saw with great surprise the small figure of Gwen standing on the stairs, looking a bit frightened but determined, with a manic Raden beside her yelling insults as both of them hurled objects with surprising accuracy at the officers below. Then he turned to glare pointedly at the Man still clinging onto his other arm. The Man visibly paled, then with a nervous and apologetic smile let go of his before stepping back deliberately.

"Just doin' me job, ya know. N-no hard feelings, eh?" said the Man, his hands upraised in a sign of surrender, staring nervously at the glaring Dwarf as he backed away. Little did the poor Man know that it was not Gimli he should be worrying about just then, for there were far more dangerous creatures about. 

The Man gave a startled jump when a wild-haired Trixy appeared out of nowhere with a shrill war cry and preceded to beat on him viciously with her shoe. She had thoroughly defeated her two previous opponents with her chosen weapon; so fast and fierce was her attack she gave the Man no time to fight back.

Gimli couldn't help a bark of laughter at the sight of the yelping Man scuttling about, arms covering his head, desperately trying to escape his ferocious attacker. He continued to watch for a moment-- this was definitely something he doubted he'd ever get to see again in his lifetime-- before finally turning and wading back into the chaotic battle, still careful to keep his full strength in check. 

Meanwhile, Ursla had wiped the blood from her split lip off her chin with the back of her hand. She stared at the red stain for a moment before her face turned into a mask of pure fury. Snatching up an empty bottle from the floor, she held it by the neck then smashed the end of it against the side of a table. It broke with a loud crash and a shower of glass, and she held up the sharp, jagged remains, advancing towards the fray and looking for an opportunity to put her improvised weapon to good use. Luckily Merry spotted her, and realizing that her friend was blinded by her rage and not thinking straight, pulled her back before she could do any harm. 

Suddenly a figure appeared in the kitchen entrance.

"WHAT IN ARDA IS GOING ON OUT HERE!?" 

Standing there was no other then the imposing figure of Lady Mavis, her chest puffed up, her hands on her broad hips, a large rolling pin held in one of her hands as she glared at the chaos in front of her.

At the sound of that loud booming voice, everyone froze, creating a bizarre tableau for the outraged Woman. Gimli had stopped in mid-punch, still gripping a wincing Ron by the collar of his blue tunic, his broad fist drawn back ready to fly. Raden and Gwen paused in the process of throwing things, and Terry had halted mid-swing with her broom. Trixy froze in her perch on a cowering officer's back, her deadly shoe still in hand, and Sam held an understandably wide-eyed and frightened Merin over his head. 

As suddenly as it had started, the fight was officially over as the combatants stepped warily away from one another. There was a yelp followed by a loud 'thump!' and a pained moan, as Sam simply dropped the officer he had been holding aloft.

Just then Lady D, followed by the flushed and red-faced Captain, stormed out from her study, having finally heard the tail end of the brawl. Needless to say both of them looked shocked at the mess and the realization of just what had happened in the large room.

"What's the meaning of this?" Lady D demanded, as she looked around the room with flashing eyes, though from whom she wanted an answer, no one knew. It was clear that the Captain was also just as greatly surprised and angry, though for different reasons than the flame-haired Woman next to him. For him it was the fact that his Men had clearly disregarded his orders, and worse, it appeared that they had been thoroughly trounced!

"Take your Men outside!" Lady D finally ordered, pointing sharply to the open door. The Captain bristled but held his tongue, before harshly commanding his Men to leave and wait for him outside. And with a few groans and muttered curses they complied, the various ladies smugly getting out of their way as they limped out the door. Two Men had to be dragged out, one still unconscious.

Gara made a point of glaring holes through the Dwarf, who glared right back, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. Except for his clothes, short beard and his long hair looking a bit tousled, the Dwarf seemed not much the worse for wear. Relena, Merry, Trixy and several other ladies had gathered and now stood protectively around him, including Ursla who stood directly behind him, her hands resting on both of his broad shoulders. Several of the ladies muttered rude comments under their breath and all glared at Gara-- even Gwen, who stood partially behind Ursla, stuck her tongue out at the tall Man before ducking back behind the raven-haired Woman. 

"You better watch yourself, runt!" Gara warned the Dwarf, ignoring the Women as he and the others limped past them on their way to the door.

Gimli eloquently voiced his opinion of Gara's parting words.

"Piss off, shit face!" he called, flipping the Man a rude Dwarven hand gesture.

It was then that the Captain stormed up to them, ignoring everyone except the Dwarf. So menacing was he that many of the Women shrank back a step, with the exception of Ursla, who continued to stand resolutely behind Gimli. Though by the way her hands unconsciously tightened their grip on his shoulders, Gimli could tell that the Captain clearly frightened even her.

"You may have been saved this time, but don't think you will be so lucky the next time!" the graying Man hissed, his sharp eyes seeming to stab right through him. 

"You had better watch yourself, Dwarf. Just remember, I've got my eyes on you-- and you won't even be able to fart in this town without my knowing it!" he snarled. Gimli's nose wrinkled a bit at hearing this but otherwise he stayed quiet as he glared right back at the older Man. 

Then without another word the seething Captain turned and stormed out after his Men. As soon as he was through the door, young Raden slammed it shut after him, rattling the paintings on the wall and looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"That will teach 'em!" shouted Trixy in triumph. 

Big cheers and laughter came from all those gathered in the main room and those watching from the stairs. Relena was now putting on her earrings and bracelets again, having taken them back from May who had stayed out of the fighting earlier. Merry, concerned, had left Ursla and Gimli to go to Lady D's side as soon as the Captain had left. But the older Woman only gave her a small warm smile and calmly put her fears to rest, giving the side of Merry's face a loving caress as they spoke quietly with one another. Mavis and Klareoy began to yell orders, breaking up the milling ladies and beginning to organize the cleanup of the wrecked room. 

"You're one lucky Dwarf, sweet cheeks!" laughed Terry, coming up to Gimli as she wrapped her open robe around herself. "That Ruby, I just can't be figurin' what she was thinkin'." She shook her head and looked at him. "Good thing Miss D was here and told 'em that she was the one that ordered ya ta do both Tir and Crasus in-- or you'd probably halfway to the jail 'ouse by now!" she told him seriously.

Gimli was greatly surprised by this bit of news, for Lady D had not told him to kill anyone, though she had personally taken the life of Crasus. The Man had gotten exactly what he deserved, in Gimli's mind. In fact Gimli had no regrets about the fate of either Crasus or Tir, but he was surprised at Lady D taking the blame for both their deaths. Clearly at great risk to herself, she had protected not only himself but Ursla, who would have been named an accomplice in Tir's death. As he was thinking about all this, someone called for Terry to come look at something, and Gimli quietly watched her go, feeling the two hands still on his shoulders shift. 

Gimli finally turned and looked up at the raven-haired Woman behind him, taking one of her slim hands in his own.

"Are ya alright, Ursla?" he asked in concern, his dark brown eyes roving over her, looking for any injuries. With the exception of a bruised and swelling cheek and the possible beginnings of a black eye, the sight of which immediately caused a hot burst of anger to flare in his chest, she looked for the most part unscathed. 

"It's nothin', I've 'ad much worse. Trust me, I'm fine!" she told him with a smile, seeing the look in his eyes and giving his hand a comforting squeeze. "But I should be askin' about you! You realize you took on near half the constables in Ocendade?" she asked with a laugh, as Gimli chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. 

By this time Merry had come back over to them after checking to make sure D was alright, and she gave a concerned hiss seeing Ursla's bruised and now swollen face. In their line of work one couldn't afford any permanent damage that might mare one's face-- a nasty disfiguring mark could mean the difference between a few coins or many cold nights with an empty belly. Luckily Ursla no longer had to worry about that, thanks to the sack of gold safely hidden away in her room, and she tied to waved off her friend's concern as she had with Gimli, but Merry was unfazed.

"We need ta get that swellin' down 'fore it gets any worse! Let's see if Grizalin or Mavis got any raw meat they can spare to put on that," Merry said as she tucked some of Ursla's hair behind her ear and off the side of her injured face.

"She's right, let's be doin' something about that face of yours," Gimli said with an agreeing nod, tugging Ursla along in the direction of the kitchen with Merry following. The three were just about to leave the main room when they heard a voice call out from behind them.

"Gimli." 

It was Lady D, standing nearby with her folded black fan in hand. Seeing that she had his attention, she simply motioned for him to follow her before gliding back into her study. Gimli watched her go then looked at his two companions-- Ursla appeared decidedly worried and Merry just gave him a shrug.

"Well… I guess I'll be seein' what she wants," he said, giving Ursla's hand a small comforting squeeze before letting it go and walking quickly after the flame-haired Woman. 

Ursla watched the copper-haired Dwarf disappear behind the red-curtained entrance with troubled eyes. As soon as she had seen the blue uniformed officers earlier she had known who they were after and why. Now she worried what Lady D would do after what had taken place just minutes before. 

Merry, seeing her friend's worried face, just gave her back a consoling rub before tugging her to the kitchen.

"Don't worry! I'm sure everything will be fine. They probably just need to have a talk, is all. Come, let's take care of those bruises!" she said, and Ursla, throwing one last anxious look the way her friend had gone, hoped that Merry was right.

~~~

Meanwhile, the group of officers stood outside the closed brothel, nursing their many injuries and their shattered pride. Their ears were still ringing from the vicious tongue lashing they had gotten from their Captain before the visibly steaming older Man had finally stormed away down the street. 

They were all bruised, some were even bleeding, and their hair and clothes were ripped and in completely disarray. They looked as if they had just survived being trapped in a room with twenty rabid wild cats, and that was not counting the damage that many had been dealt by the Dwarf. Needless to say, they made a sorry sight as they stood in the middle of the street.

"I can't believe this! Do you realize we just had our asses handed to us by one half-grown Dwarf and a crazed pack of whores?!" snorted Merin, rubbing at the visible red boot-print in the middle of his face. He had also developed a limp, thanks to landing wrong when the irate Dwarf had thrown him over its shoulder.

"We're gonna be the laughin' stock of the whole town," groaned one of the Men as he gingerly felt his own black eye, courtesy of Relena.

"They won't get away with this!" snarled another, who had a broken nose and sported an assortment of bruises. "We'll go get the rest of the Men and--" but he found his furious rant interrupted.

"And tell them what!? Are _you_ going to tell how you were beaten black and blue by a nearly naked Woman, half your size, wielding a shoe!?" Ron demanded, glaring at the shorter Man who visibly winced at the memory. They all fell silent, except for Rafe who was moaning as he finally started to come around again.

"Well, that settles it!" declared Gara, breaking the silence as he held his hand with the broken finger.

"What's that, Gara?" asked young Ferdirand, looking up with a wince from where he sat on the ground, cradling his ringing head in his hands. The others also looked expectantly at the tall Man.

"I need a drink," he said with utter conviction. A long pause followed as the other Men just stared at him. 

"I think Gara's got a good idea, for once. I'm gonna be at the tavern, drownin' meself in a pint," said Merin finally, as he began to limp away down the street. 

And with that the other officers got up and began to shuffle after him, Ron and Ferdirand half dragging the still moaning Rafe along. The people on the street silently watched them go until the sorry group of officers were out of sight, then the smiles and laughter broke out before they finally went back to their own affairs.

~~~

Gimli silently followed Lady D into her study. He had only been there two times before, both times to drag a particularly rough and rowdy customer before the Headmistress who would decide if they were to be allowed to come back or be barred from ever returning. 

The richly furnished study had been Master Clot's personal domain, and he had allowed no one except a very small few to step foot in it; now it was Lady D's. A high backed chair stood behind the large and intricately carved wooden desk, which was cluttered with parchment, quills, old books and of course the large heavy ledger book, along with several lit candles. There was a stone fireplace on the right wall where a small merry fire blazed, helping to light the windowless room 

Behind the desk was hung a large painting that dominated the back wall, depicting a quiet glen in a thick forest on a sunny day. The canvas, with its fine intricate inlayed silver and dark wood frame, was actually greater in size then the brothel's main door. The painting itself looked more like a window onto the scene than an actual work of art; it seemed alive. No, this was no ordinary painting. This was an enchanted painting, done by an Elvish artist (2.). 

As if by some magic, the image would subtly change every time one looked at it; leaves would shift, insects and flowers would appear or disappear as spots of sunlight moved about the clearing. One day a few deer would be grazing between the trees, and the next day they would be gone, but a flock of birds would be among the branches.

Many of the brothel's residents avoided coming into the study for that very reason. They did not understand why the large painting was so different from others, and what they did not understand, they feared. Bewitched! they would whisper. Elvish magic! Only a few delighted in it-- it was not uncommon for young Gwen to spend hours sitting on the floor behind Lady D's desk, gazing at it in wonder. 

It was truly a marvel and a mystery as to how the old brothel owner had come to possess such a treasure, for the Elves did not usually willingly part with such precious items. It was extremely rare that one could even be found outside the enchanted halls of some Elven stronghold, like those of Rivendell, Lindon or the Grey Havens.

"Terry told me that you took the blame for Tir," Gimli finally said, forcing his eyes away from the painting and to the statuesque Woman while walking up to the large wooden desk that separated them. "You need not have done so, Lady D. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of--" 

But she only turned and speared him with a cool glance that immediately silenced him, then turned her back fully to the confused Dwarf and appeared to study the large painting in front of her. 

Gimli was just about to open his mouth and speak again when her smooth voice broke in. 

"What I decide to do is entirely my choice. And as long as you are under this roof, you will simply do what you are told, understood?"

"Aye…" he answered after a long pause as he watched her with puzzled eyes.

"What I said to the good Captain is the only thing that saved you from the noose. So keep your mouth shut and be thankful," she ordered, finally turning around to look at him.

Gimli remained silent for a moment, shifting on his feet.

"If I may… What did you say?" he asked, unable to hide his curiosity. For he could not think of what could have been said that would have caused the Captain, in front of his Men and everyone else there, to suddenly change his mind when it was so clearly within their rights to arrest him. 

"Let us just say that we all have our dirty little secrets… but some are just a little dirtier and…nastier than others," she said simply, cocking an elegant eyebrow.

"To survive in this world you must have something that others do not. Something everyone fears… and that is knowledge. I make it a policy to know things, both the good and the bad," she said with almost no inflection in her smooth voice.

"The good Captain would not want certain…secrets to be revealed to those living in this town, and let us just say that the Captain was the farthest thing from the law before he came here to Ocendade," she said, and now there was a rueful tone to her words.

"Necessity creates strange bedfellows, Master Dwarf. Very strange indeed. That goes for you now as well. Remember this: _never_ cross me. Or you just might find out how much I know of you…"

He watched as she silently turned her back to him once more. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, unable to understand the strange enigma of the flame-haired Woman as he intently studied her back. He knew her words to be no idle warning, yet he detected no malice in them either. She was simply stating a fact.

"You must leave, for it is no longer safe for us nor for you to stay here," she said, breaking the silence and shaking him from his thoughts. 

"I want you gone in two days' time."

"I can leave this very day, if you wish," he said quietly, understanding her decision.

"No, two days' time will be sufficient," she answered him, and Gimli noticed a subtle shift in her shoulders. 

"There are many here that do not want to see you go; it will give us--" She suddenly stopped, seeming to rethink her words before starting again. "It will give _them_ time to enjoy your company a bit longer…and to say a proper goodbye."

There was another long pause, then she turned her head slightly and he could see some of her pale cheek.

"You may go," she dismissed him finally, before looking back to the painting in front of her. He simply gave her a small bow before turning and leaving her to the quiet of her study.

~~~

A half hour later, Gimli, Sam, Gwen and Raden were in the main room cleaning up, along with a few clientele that had come back. Lady D was still in her study and Ursla was upstairs in her room with Merry, laying on her bed as she held a large piece of raw meat over her eye. The other ladies had also left to go about their own business after Mavis had officially assigned Gimli the task of cleaning up the large room, considering he was the cause of it getting messed up to begin with. Most of the damage had now been taken care of and young Raden and Gwen had insisted that they help and keep him company. 

A few minutes earlier a large cart had pulled up in front of the brothel and two Men had struggled to unload some heavy crates, stacking them in the entranceway. Lady Mavis came out from the kitchen briefly to oversee the operation, and give them the full contents of one crate by way of thanks. Since the contents turned out to be bottles of Elven wine from the vineyards of Nimbrethil, they gladly accepted before leaving for their next drop off. She then ordered Sam to take the rest of the crates down to the cellar before going back to the kitchen.

Sam was making a big show of single handedly doing so, while Gimli put the various bits of furniture back to their proper places and Raden and Gwen straightened the red drapes and tapestries. 

Gimli had finished moving the low table back into position, and he straightened up to watch Sam take another crate away. There were only a few left, including the one that was empty, its lid askew. It was then that a sudden flare of mischief sprang to life as he remembered a practical joke that Ulfr had loved to play on people (Gimli himself had fallen for it more than once). 

After making sure that the coast was clear, Gimli quickly went over to the empty crate and carefully put the lid back on, then moved it over with the other crates, motioning for the confused looking Raden and Gwen to stay quiet.

Just as Sam entered the room, he bent down to grip the empty crate, grunting and straining as if it weighed too much to lift. The hulking Man stopped and took in the scene, watching with some derision as the Dwarf struggled.

"Ha! Who's the weakling now, eh!?" Sam laughed triumphantly. He strutted over and shoved Gimli to the side. 

"Out of the way, Dwarf!" he snorted before squatting down to take hold of the crate as Gimli watched with a look of anticipation twinkling in his eyes.

"Now let me show you how it's _properly_ done; ya just get a good grip and---aahh!!!" Sam gave a yell of surprise as he yanked the crate up with all his strength, staggering backwards as his balance was thrown off and sending the crate flying over his head with the force of his pull. A moment later it crashed back to the ground in the middle of the room, just barely missing a middle-aged Man waiting for one of the working ladies to take him upstairs. Needless to say the Man nearly jumped out of his skin in fright.

"It was empty!?" Sam said with a stunned look on his large, rather homely face. Then he turned beet-red and glared daggers at the Dwarf, who by now had fallen over and was pounding the floor in hysterical laughter. Both Gwen and Raden were laughing like mad as well. Sam was understandably not amused. 

"You bloody bastard!" he yelled angrily, as he got up and knocked the straw from his clothes.

"For-- forgive me, Sam! Ahahahahah! But I could not help-- hahaha m-myself! Oh Mahal! The look on your face--I nearly pissed myself!" Gimli managed to say between gales of laughter as he sat up, wiping tears from his eyes. Sam was not impressed by the Dwarf's apology and only crossed his arms with an angry snort and a scowl on his broad face. Finally Gimli managed to get himself under control and got to his feet when Mavis and Grizalin walked into the room, both stopping to look at the evidence of Gimli's practical joke.

"Look at this mess!" cried Mavis with a huff. The room was a sight; packing straw was strewn across the floor, and the battered remains of the empty crate lay on it's side near the deathly pale Man, who looked like he was still recovering from the scare of his life. She turned a suspicious eye to Sam and Gimli.

"It was the Dwarf!" Sam quickly said, pointing an accusing finger at Gimli who threw the bald Man an annoyed glance before turning to the two angry Women.

"Forgive me, Lady Mavis, Grizalin. 'Twas a joke, I'll be cleaning it up!" Gimli promised, suddenly feeling like a naughty child under the older Women's disapproving look.

"Well, 'Prince of the Sweepers', ya better be sweepin' this mess up right now! And as for you, Sam! I better see these crates put away yesterday!" scolded Mavis with her hands on her broad hips, before picking up the broom leaning against the wall nearby and handing it to Gimli. 

"And when ya done in 'ere, your Majesty of Mange, ya can mop the hall upstairs!" Grizalin snorted, before following Mavis into the kitchen. Gimli gave an internal groan. _Sweepin' and moppin' the floors again, at this rate I should be making this a full time job!_ he grumbled to himself. Sam lumbered off to the cellar with another crate, muttering under his breath about being ordered around and having to deal with troublesome Dwarves.

"Look! I found a tooth!" Gwen chirped, interrupting Gimli's own internal grumbling, and he turned to see her holding up her find. 

"I'm still trying ta figure out what this bit is here," Radin said, squatting down to look at a bloody bit of something near the stairs. Gwen came to look briefly over his shoulder before turning away, looking a little green. 

The three spent the next couple of minutes in companionable silence as Gimli swept the floor again, and Raden lit up a new punk of the harsh incense that always seemed to clog Gimli's sensitive nose.

Sam had finished putting away the crates and had now retired to his room, and Gimli was preparing to go upstairs to mop the hallway and escape the cloying incense, when someone called from the stairs.

"You there! Dwarf!"

Gimli looked up in surprise to see the two haughty well-dressed Men from earlier, descending the stairs. He had thought they had left hours ago, and with all the goings-on of the day he had almost completely forgotten about them.

"Fetch our things! And be quick about it!" the smaller Man said, snapping his fingers at the copper-haired Dwarf.

"Oh! Let me be fetchin' them for ya right away, Masters!" Gimli said in his best 'stupid servant' voice as they finally came to stand impatiently in the main entranceway.

But the two Men were surprised and puzzled when instead of going to a closet or another room in the brothel, the Dwarf walked crisply to the front door. Gwen and Raden only shared a look but otherwise stayed quiet before turning back to the entertainment. Gimli grandly opened the front door for them, looking expectantly on the ground for the two gentlemen's things that he had thrown out earlier, then appeared mildly puzzled when he didn't see them. Two Men came up to the doorway and stared at him.

"Hmmm…I could have sworn I tossed them out here…" Gimli said, making a point of looking absentmindedly perplexed as the two Men now gaped like fish behind him, apparently realizing what the Dwarf had done with their garments.

It was then that Gimli heard something across the street, and looking over he saw a group of the local children playing nearby in the dirty street with their yellow dog.

"I'm the Elven Queen! And I order you ta eat that clump o' dirt!" ordered a little red-haired girl imperiously. The taller Man's expensive blue and silver trimmed cloak was around her small shoulders, dragging on the ground.

"I don't hav'ta eat no dirt! I'm a wizard!" staunchly denied a little boy with curly brown hair, crossing his thin arms over his chest. He was wearing the smaller Man's gray and cream colored, and now very dirty cloak. The 'Elven Queen' stamped her foot angrily at his refusal.

"I don't wanna play this anymore," whined another little boy, who was wearing the second Man's hat which was far to big for him. His yellow dog sat on the ground next to him, scratching at a particularly insistent itch behind one of its floppy ears with a back foot.

"Oh! There they are!" Gimli said with a laugh, pointing to the group of children, as Gwen and Raden joined them at the door to watch.

"What!" the taller Man nearly screeched, finally recovering from his shock. His companion still stared in stunned silence before being spurred to action at seeing the deplorable condition of his once expensive cloak and hat.

"Hey--HEY!!! You little shits! Give me those! COME BACK HERE!!!" the shorter Man demanded, running out the door and after the now fleeing children and barking dog.

"Nooo! It's mine!!!" the smallest boy screeched, clutching the bedraggled hat, with its badly bent pheasant feather, to his head, the yellow dog cantering happily beside him. The Man pursued them futilely, red-faced and puffing-- he had no hope of catching the street smart children who knew the streets and alleyways like the backs of their grubby little hands. 

Gimli, Raden and Gwen watched him go with barely contained amusement, but the tall Man was livid. He turned to glare down at Gimli, who didn't seem to notice and smiled back pleasantly.

"You threw our things in the street!? How dare you!!! Why I should--"

"Did I ever tell you two about the time I punched a Man so hard in the gut, he fouled himself?" Gimli suddenly asked, interrupting the Man's tirade and turning to look at the two teenagers standing beside him.

"Really? I'd like ta see that!" Raden chirped excitedly. Then they all turned to look expectantly at the suddenly quiet and pale-faced Man standing in front of them. 

"Um…I think it is time for me to depart, good day!" he said hurriedly, before walking quickly out the door, heading in the direction his yelling friend had gone.

The three turned and looked at one another, shrugging their shoulders, before Gimli reached out and closed the door again. There was a long pause, then Gwen started giggling behind her hand, setting the other two off as both Gimli and Raden began to laugh uproariously.

~~~

Later that day, the remaining residents of the brothel gathered around the long wooden table for dinner. Lady D had officially closed the brothel for that night and the following two days, since it was to be Master Clot's funeral the next day, so until then the two large red lanterns out front would remain unlit. 

The smell of rich foods and alcohol filled the air, and the sound of clanking dishes and silverware competed with conversation and laughter as Lady Mavis and Lady Grizalin began to set out the feast they had started cooking since the news of the brothel owner's greatly anticipated death.

"I still don't get it-- where did all the money for this food come from, not to mention the ale and wine?" someone asked at the table.

"That greedy old codger was only payin' us half our wages all these years! Savin' every coin he could lay his grasping hands on, and sitting on his horde o' gold like some fire-breathin' dragon!" snorted someone else in answer.

"Aye! The same be goin' for the wine and spirits-- the stingy coot had a whole cellar stacked high with bottles and barrels. Guess he was hoardin' it like his gold, this is just the tip o' the mountain he has down there. So drink up!" another urged.

"Your attention! Ladies, ladies!" Everyone at the table turned as Lady D got up to make an announcement.

"Now, then. Ladies, Gentlemen-- and Dwarf. I would like to make a few announcements." The flame-haired Woman waited a few moments for everyone's attention.

"Please refrain from dumping the old tub water in the front and side alleys-- do it in the back. That goes for chamber-pots and the same for any cooking scraps; that's what our mulch pile is for! We are running a clean establishment here, ladies. And I want it to stay that way!" she said, the steel in her smooth voice making it clear that this was an order and not a request. She then gave a tired sigh before she moved on to her final announcement. 

"Finally. Everyone, _please_ refrain from urinating on Master Clot's body. He is already quite pungent enough as is, and it's making a mess of the floor in the ground floor storeroom."

"'Sides, ya can all piss on his grave to your 'eart's content when the bastard's planted. So ya all better knock it off until then! I'm gettin' tired of constantly cleanin' up after y'all!" interjected Grizalin irritably, as she put a large plate of sliced ham and roasted beef on the table. 

Lady D gave a nod, then turned to everyone at the table again and lifted up her crystal goblet of red wine, waiting for the others to do the same with their tankards, steins, pewter goblets, tin cups, mugs or whatever they happened to be drinking out of.

"Now that that's over with, let us make a few toasts-- starting with our dear late Clots-"

"May he rot in Mordor! The bloody scum-sucking piece of troll dung!" someone further down the table suddenly yelled, interrupting her. D raised an irritated eyebrow, waiting a moment until the rowdy laughter had died down before continuing. 

"To Master Clots. Who so generously signed in his new will that the 'Red Blossom' and all his assets belong to me!" she said, a twinkle now in her storm-gray eyes and a wicked smile gracing her thin red-painted lips as a cheer went up.

"To those who will soon depart to start anew, elsewhere," she continued after the cheering had died down a little, raising her cup in Ursla's direction. 

The raven-haired Woman had already bought back her own as well as Raden's and Gwen's contracts, and had let the Headmistress know that she planned to leave soon. Neither Raden nor Gwen knew about this yet, so both looked greatly distressed at the news of her departure, especially Gwen who looked as if she might cry, but they like most of the others dutifully raised their glasses to Ursla, who blushed and laughed at the attention.

"To honorable young Dwarves that avoid the noose, to live another day," D continued, lifting her cup to Gimli. Once again most of those around the table raised their various drinks with a cheer as the handsome Dwarf laughed and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"And to the brave whores that protect them!" Lady D finished with a laugh, and there was an explosion of laughter and cheers. Gimli added a "Here, here!" laughing with the rest as wine, ale and all manner of liquids sloshed from hoisted glasses before being finally brought down to awaiting mouths. As soon as Lady D had finished her sip and had sat down at the head of the table again, dinner officially commenced.

Urlsa speared a bit of ham for her plate after handing Gimli a bowl of grapes. She popped one in her mouth before suddenly seeming to remember something, and quickly excusing herself she dodged past Mavis and Grizalin as they carried large plates to the table with the help of a few others.

The conversation picked up again as everyone helped themselves to the platters of food and began to eat and talk, about such varying subjects as the weather, the going price for a bag of grain, to the intimate sex lives of the various neighbors and the local Lord's lacking penis size. 

"Ya seen that new lad working over by the Grainery? Ouch! He's a handsome one!"

"Aye, he's got a nice bum, too."

"Terry! Girl, you're gettin' as bad as Pearl!" 

"Three gold pieces for a sack of coffee!?"

"It's highway robbery, it is!"

"He came home and what did he see? But his wife-- beddin' the butcher!"

"Ha! What did he expect when he married that trollop!"

"Seen them new bolts of fabric that came in from Lindon yesterday?"

"Aye! That shimmery green silk would make such a lovely dress."

"Too bad that gorgeous Elf sellin' 'em don't come with the fabric!"

"Aye! Ya can say that again!"

"Cherry's pregnant again," someone said.

"Again! What's this, the twelfth?" asked another.

"Nay, the fourteenth!" another laughed.

"I'm tellin' ya that Woman is single handedly bringin' Ocendade's population up by half!" Grizalin snorted, coming to sit down at the table.

"I swear the clients that be comin' in are all a might bit strange o' late" said May, sopping up some of the thick gravy on her plate with a piece of bread.

"Tell me about it! I had a Man who 'ad three balls a couple o' days ago!" someone said, from down the table to Gimli's left as the Dwarf popped a few grapes into his mouth.

"That ain't nothin'! I had one once with none!" said someone else with a laugh.

"I had a Woman who came in dressed like a Man, just yesterday! Wasn't until the clothes came off that ya could tell," said a dark-haired Woman across the table as she put a large spoonful of carrots on her plate.

"Well I once had a Man with a crooked knob," said another Woman, holding up a severely bent breadstick as an example and wiggling it for affect.

Draco gave a humorous snort, having just finished a long sip of his wine. "Half the Men that be comin' 'ere got bent knobs, dear."

Gimli just ruefully shook his head as he ate, chuckling to himself as he listened to the conversations around the table. _And to think, people thought Dwarves were crass and talked about crude things when they got together, _he mused as he deftly cut himself another piece of beef with his fork and knife. 

"What about them Elves? I heard they got two peckers apiece, if ya know what I mean," said Fielis, who was an extremely thin Woman with pale strawberry-blond hair.

"Elves ain't got two peckers!" snorted Bell as she passed a bowl of peas to May.

"Two?!" squeaked Gwen, looking up from her plate where she sat next to Gimli. She was still a bit morose after the announcement of Urlsa's leaving and Gimli's impending departure.

"Oh hush, Fielis! That's just plum silliness! Elves only got one and let's just be saying that I know from personal experience," Draco said with a mysterious laugh before taking another sip of wine from his dented pewter goblet.

"Between you and Pearl, is there anything in Arda you two _haven't_ slept with yet?" Ruby said snidely, while she poured herself some more ale. Since the incident with the local constabulary, most of the residents of the brothel had made a point of avoiding the auburn-haired Woman, for she had broken an unspoken law of the brothel. And though she tried to tell herself that she didn't care, she was painfully feeling the distance the others were giving her.

"Well let's see now…." Draco said as if deep in thought, not rising to her bait. "No. Not everything. Still trying ta get Gimli here ta put out." He gave the young Dwarf a pointed look, one elegant eyebrow raised. 

Ruby just rolled her eyes while a blush rose to Gimli's cheeks as he looked up, causing several of the people around the table to laugh.

"Sorry Draco, but… I, um… I must, uh…save myself! Besides, your beauty would just simply overwhelm me. I wouldn't know what to do except be completely stupefied by your radiance!" he answered, smoothing over his decline of the slender Man's invitation with some charm. Though he found the elegant Man stunningly beautiful, he was just not interested in Draco that way, even though Gimli had had his fair share of both male and female lovers in the past.

"Mmmmm, flattery can get you anywhere!" Draco purred, blowing the Dwarf a kiss with a promising wink. Gimli good-naturedly put a hand to his chest, throwing his head back with a ragged sigh as if faint from being smitten before taking another big gulp from his tankard of ale. 

"Oh that's right, I heard about that! Dwarves only love once! So they don't be messin' around like all us other races," said someone further down the crowded table.

"I knew it! Pay up, girly!" Hillry, a lithe young Woman with her light hair done up in a high bun, nearly jumped out of her chair before turning and holding her hand out expectantly to the brown-haired Woman beside her. The Woman snorted and grumpily reached into her impressive bosom and pulled out her money purse, grumbling the entire time as she forked over the money.

"Gimli's a virgin!?" exclaimed Jen in shock from across the table, as the Dwarf groaned as he put his head in his hand. It was then that Ursla came sweeping into the room and took the empty seat next to him.

"Who's a virgin?" she asked, looking around the table in confusion, having caught only the tail-end of what Jen had said.

"Our Gimli's a virgin!"

"Gimli? This one right 'ere?" she asked, pointing to the groaning and slumped Dwarf beside her. "A virgin? Gimli? Bwa, ha, ha, ha!" she laughed, tossing her head back, her hoop earrings ringing merrily. "He be about as virginal as a yowling alley cat! Me sister Myia used ta tell me how they'd sneak away whenever they had the chance and f--!" Her next words were suddenly muffled as Gimli clamped a broad hand over her mouth, giving her an exasperated glare. But it was too late, the damage had been done, for the table erupted into laughter.

"Naughty, naughty! Someone's telling fibs," Trixy said, waggling her finger at the embarrassed looking Dwarf. A snickering Ursla only gave him an apologetic shrug when he released her. 

"Ha! I was right after all!" crowed Ema, before holding her hand out expectantly to the now sulking Hillry.

"Damn it all!" she grumbled, before forking the money back over.

"What about Dwarves?" someone asked, which immediately caused warning bells to go off in Gimli's head, knowing just how quickly this topic would turn crass with this particular group.

"Could we please not be havin' this discussion?!" he pleaded desperately. But of course they just ignored him.

"Ya know…I ain't never seen a naked Dwarf," someone said to his left, and he grumbled under his breath before taking a long drink from his tankard, realizing it was a lost cause to try and sway this group away from this particular topic.

"I hear say they ain't got no nobs!" chirped the dark-haired Elisabeth. Gimli promptly choked on his ale, and Ursla pounded his back while the Dwarf coughed and hacked, a concerned Gwen offering him her napkin.

"It's on account they ain't got no Women-folk of their own ta use 'em with. That's why they carve their young 'uns from stone," Elisabeth continued cheerfully, undisturbed by the noise.

"That's just plain stupid!" yelled Raden around a mouthful of food, who was sitting on Gwen's other side. "Have ya not heard what Ursla said?"

"Aye! That ain't true at all! Just another one of them stupid old wives' tales, like how if ya catch an Elf and steal one of his hairs, ya can make 'im grant ya a wish. Pure hogwash!" said Klareoy, with a decisive nod of her head. "'Sides, the only thing you're gonna get from snatchin' some strange Elf's hair is a punch in the mouth and a dirty look!"

"Yah! 'Sides, Gimli's hung like a horse! I peeped on him last time he was in the tub-- nice view too!" Trixy chirped, before suggestively licking her top lip.

"Oy! Ya bloody Tomnoddy!" Gimli yelled angrily, his voice a little rough from coughing, before throwing a warm roll across the table at her. Trixy caught it and took a bite completely unapologetic. 

"Can I not have a single moment of peace in this place, without being spied on!?" he groused, beet red with embarrassment and making a mental note to himself to check the washroom for peepholes.

"Poor Gimli, ya virtue just ain't safe in this place!" laughed the exotic Merry from her place beside Lady D. The Headmistress sat regally at the head of the large table, sipping at her goblet of wine as she listened to all the talk with amusement; every now and then she fed Merry something from her plate.

"They're completely silly, but I love hearin' all those tales," chuckled Mavis, finally coming to sit down at the table with a large plate of steamed carrots and peas.

"Let's see now…oh, anyone heard that old tale, that if ya step into a toadstool ring in a forest, you'll be making the faeries mad, cause that's where they dance and revel (3.)? Then they'll cast a spell on ya and you'll be trapped and forced to dance forever! Or they'll make ya go to sleep for a hundred years! Then when ya wake up ya ain't nothing but wrinkles and brittle bones," she said, as she spooned herself up a serving of peas before passing it to the tall blond next to her.

"Or stay away from dark bogs, or old Jenny Greenteeth (4.) will drag ya down and drown ya!" someone said.

"Oh! How about them giant spiders--big as a Man, roamin' in Mirkwood they say," said Trixy excitedly, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Giant spiders? Phaw! Pure imagination!" snorted Grizalin with a shake of her head, as she cut herself a slice of ham. 

"Or don't take no offered rides from strange friendly horses in the wilds near any water. 'Cause it's probably a Kelpie (5.), and before ya know it you'll be dunked," said Klareoy.

"Where I come from, Kelpie don't just dunk ya; they drown ya then eat ya!" Terry told them seriously, picking daintily at her plate.

"I hear tell that because Dwarves ain't got no Womenfolk of their own, they sometimes come down from their mountains bent on kidnap and rape, stealing only attractive young maidens to take back to their mountains!" said a thin Woman from down the table.

She had light brown hair piled on the back of her head in a loose bun, and an insulting smirk on her sharp-featured face as she pointedly looked in Gimli's direction, lazily swirling the beer in her mug. Her name was Genny and she was one of the few residents besides Ruby to greatly dislike him, simply because he was a Dwarf. She usually avoided him, making only the occasional insulting comment, and she was also one of Ruby's few real friends at the 'Red Blossom'.

"Well then, if that were true-- which it certainly is not!-- _you_ would be perfectly safe, Genny," Gimli promised staunchly, his dark eyes flashing.

"What ya mean by that?" she asked, a frown crinkling her face as she looked sharply at him, and the other humans around the table turned to watch the exchange with interest.

"Woman, don't you even listen to your own inane babblings?" Gimli snorted. He took a long drink from his tankard before rolling his dark eyes exasperatedly at her. "Ya said it yourself: Dwarves only be stealing young _attractive_ maidens. Therefore, _you_ have nothing to fear from my kind!" 

The table erupted again with laughter and even Gimli couldn't help chuckling at his own comeback. Genny's face went red as the meaning of his words became clear to her, she looked as if she were framing a retort, but Urlsa interrupted her before she could say anything else.

"Oh, hush up, Gen! Ya had that one comin' and ya know it!" laughed Ursla from Gimli's side, and the smaller Woman shot her a glare full of daggers before turning back to her plate with a huff.

"Oh! I got one better! Ya got ta watch out for them Elves, 'cause they sometimes come and steal mortal babies, then leave a changeling in its place (6.)!" Terry told them dramatically after the laughter had died down, holding up her hands and wiggling her long-nailed fingers as if preparing to snatch something.

"Aye, I've heard that one!" snorted Ursla with a nod of her head.

"Ya heard about old Man Traze, down the street? I hear say he got snatched bald by some wild Wood-Elf in Mirkwood!" someone snickered.

"Wood-Elf? That old fool's been bald since he was twenty winters! Mirkwood, indeed! He ain't never been out of Ocendade once!" Grizalin scoffed in her nasally voice.

"I got one for ya," said Trixy. "Ever heard that ya can't be leaving a cat alone with a baby, or it'll steal its breath?" she said, before taking another bite of ham.

"But that's true…isn't it?" said Sam around a mouthful of food. Looking up from his plate for the first time since dinner had started.

"Mordor and Ginger wouldn't do anythin' like that!" Gwen said with complete conviction as she sawed awkwardly at a piece of ham with her fork and knife.

"Course it ain't true! What would a bloody cat do with a breath?" snorted Merry as she refilled Lady D's goblet with some dark red wine.

"Oh, I know! He's going ta find an Elf and trade it for a lock of hair, so he can have a wish!" said Relena through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, making the others laugh.

"Aye! 'Sides, cats are good, they be gettin' rid of those damn rats," Ursla said.

Merry gave a shiver of disgust, along with many others around the table. "I hate rats!" she said, buttering a roll.

"I got one for ya!" said Hillry with a laugh, speaking up from across the table. 

"It's said if a Dwarf gets caught out in the sun, he'll turn ta stone--(7.)" But she found herself interrupted.

"Don't be daft! That's trolls!" Gimli snapped, slamming a fist on the table and causing the dishes and cups to jump. Suddenly there was silence in the room. 

Even though Dwarves were one of the good free-peoples of Middle-earth, many Men and Elves put them into the same class as that of goblin, orcs, and other evil folk. This was not only the ultimate insult, but could not have been farther from the truth. Of course, just like some Elves and Men there were some exceptions; but one bad grape doesn't spoil the bunch! On the whole Dwarves are good people and there is a terrible hate between them and the dark folk. So terrible that over half of the Dwarven race had been decimated in the great 'War of Dwarves and Orcs', trying to wipe out their evil kind from Middle-earth. Unfortunately this sad and dark part of history and other such events were often overlooked by Men and Elves, causing many Dwarves to become even more secretive and resentful of the other peoples of Middle-earth. 

The anger in Gimli's deep voice caused Hillry to give a frightened start; she had never felt the Dwarf's ire directed at her before. Several of those gathered took notice of this, including the sharp-eyed Ruby, who snorted under her breath before taking another gulp of her ale.

Gimli immediately softened when he saw Hillry's startled reaction; he hadn't intended, to snap so hard at her and realized that she had meant no insult, just telling something she had heard. He gave a tired sigh as he rubbed a hand over his eyes, feeling bad for scaring her and embarrassed at himself for being so thin-skinned. He felt Ursla's slim hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze before he finally looked up again.

"Forgive me, Lady Hillry. I meant not to snap so. It is just… I fear I have a sore spot that I didn't know about, forgive me," he said with a small apologetic smile. She gave him an answering smile, understanding his gesture and letting him know that there were no hard feelings on either side.

"Ya think that one's silly-- where I come from in the north, they say ya can tell a Dwarf because they got feet like a goose. Or even better-- their feet be on backwards (8.)!" Mavis laughed, smacking the table in her mirth and immediately dispelling the dark mood. The talking and laughter returned as she ladled some dark gravy over her thick slice of ham before passing the bowl to the person next to her.

"Feet like a goose!? Ha! Backwards? And here I thought us carving our children from stone was utter rubbish!" Gimli laughed heartily at the sheer preposterousness of it and so did many of those around the table, Ursla nearly choking on a sip of her ale as she laughed. Two noticeable exceptions were Ruby, who sulked sourly as she picked at her plate and May, who remained quiet and unnoticed, looking a little hurt by all the talk. 

After all, until Gimli had walked through the door of 'The House of the Red Blossoms" and completely destroyed almost everything she had thought she knew of Dwarves, she had believed implicitly all the stories she had heard. Her world which had been so clear in black and white, was now confusing in shades of gray. She was now feeling quite stupid for so blindly believing them before.

The meal went on as they all continued to laugh and talk until the wee hours of the morning. By then the food had long been eaten and the dishes cleared from the table, but the alcohol continued to flow. Until even that eventually slowed to a stop, mostly because the drinkers had either left to continue to party somewhere else, or had simply passed-out or gone to bed.

~~~

After carrying upstairs, then putting to bed a thoroughly drunk and mumbling Ursla, Gimli managed to get her to drink a mug of water before she fell completely asleep. He made sure that she lay on her stomach and had the bucket handy by the bed, just in case. 

He had never seen Ursla drunk and didn't know how she would handle the hangover later-- Ursla, like Myia, was apparently a heavy drinker and if she was anything like her younger sister she would need that bucket eventually. Gimli had spent quite a few mornings in Black Hollow, after a long night of dancing and heavy drinking, with a sick Myia hunched miserably over a bucket or the ground as he rubbed her back and held back her long raven hair. He never could understand why she always drank so much, knowing that she would only get sick later. Even Ulfr had been stumped at why she did it-- being Dwarves they could naturally hold their liquor a lot better than a human. Humans were strange like that, he supposed. 

His self-appointed task done, he found himself unable to sleep, a strange restlessness creeping over him. Making sure that Ursla was resting comfortably a final time, Gimli decided to go downstairs and practice his forms in the courtyard under the stars. After picking up his two single-bladed axes, he carefully crept out of Ursla's room, making sure to quietly close the door after himself. 

He walked down the empty hallway, his heavy footsteps sounding terribly loud to himself as he passed the various doors. Some were closed, others open, and every now and then he'd see the light of a candle under the edge of a closed door, or hear the sound of talking or loud snoring coming from some rooms. At the end of the hall he descended the narrow stairwell that led into the kitchen, but he was brought up short at the bottom of the stairs by what he saw.

The fire in the cooking hearth had long since burned down to smoldering embers, and the only light in the very dark kitchen was from a single lit candle on the table and the soft blue light from the stars coming through the distorted glass of the windows. But even without the candle's pale light he would have been able to see what was in the kitchen clearly.

Sitting at the table was none other than Ruby, apparently lost in her own thoughts as she gazed unseeing at the small candle's flame, the light adding flickering sparks of gold and red to her rich ringlets of auburn hair. Cradled in her pale hands on the table was a large mug, and Gimli's sensitive nose could smell the sharp bite of the clear Elven alcohol from it. A stoppered ceramic jug sat on the table next to her.

It was then that she happened to look up from nursing her drink to see him standing there in the weak light of the candle. His Dwarven eyes glowed a rich bronze, reflecting the candle light like those of a cat (9.), and she gave a startled jump before recognizing him. A nasty sneer spread over her heart-shaped face-- Gimli could tell she was a bit drunk by the glassy sheen of her eyes and the flush of her cheeks. It also looked as if she had been crying earlier by the slight puffy and red look to them. 

"What, come ta take care of me for that crow-haired, horse-faced bitch? You're just her damned pet-- her dog! She's probably fucking you, just so you'll do her dirty work for her! Tell me, how long have you been obediently heeling for her and her vermin sisters? Eh?" she snorted, before turning her face back to the candle.

"Ursla… That back-stabbing, two-faced…diseased… cow! She thinks she…she's--she's so bloody--better than…" Her voice trailed off as her lips curled in a snarl at her dark thoughts. 

Gimli said nothing as he watched her, wondering if she was really so drunk or a bit mad. With a sharp intake of air Ruby seemed to come back to herself, her head turning jerkily to him again. 

"Or did you just come for your own revenge, eh? Is that it? Are ya going ta teach me a lesson for what I did? Make me apologize for helping you almost get hanged? Make me beg? Threaten to chop me into pieces--maybe twist off my head with those filthy hands of yours? Like ya did ta Tir!" she hissed defiantly, even though her glare flickered nervously from his face to the two axes he still held in his right hand.

But instead of the anger and scorn that she had expected, maybe even hoped for, he looked at her with confusion and something she couldn't place. Finally he just snorted and rolled his eyes before stepping away from the stairs and heading through the dark kitchen to the large doors that led to the courtyard.

"What? You think you're better than me too!?" she suddenly demanded, jumping to her feet and knocking her chair back, causing him to halt and turn around to look at her again. 

"You do, don't you? Both of you! You and that noxious cunt, Ursla!" she spat, wobbling a little on her feet as she jabbed a finger upstairs in the direction of Ursla's room. "You--you think you're better than me and my kind. A…Dwarf! A dirt-rat--a-- what do those damned spoiled Seelie (10.) call your pathetic kind? Na-naugrim….a dirty naug?" Her voice was suddenly sickeningly sweet, making the already derogatory term sound like something utterly filthy. 

It made Gimli want to step forward and knock that nasty smirk right off her face but he quickly put the notion out of his mind, realizing that Ruby was deliberately trying to provoke him.

"Hmph! Why am I even speaking to you!?" she continued, glaring at the still silent Dwarf. She could see the stiffening of his shoulders and felt a small thrill of victory, knowing that her words were finally hitting their mark and hopefully causing damage. She might not be able to fight with fist or sword, but Ruby had always been proud of her ability to cut and maim with words. 

"The truth hurts, doesn't it? You and the rest of your worthless dirt-grubbing kind are nothing but vermin-- the laughing stock of Middle-earth! No better than orcs or goblins!" she suddenly burst out with a nasty laugh as she leaned over the table in front of her. 

The flickering light of the candle lit her face from below, causing the dark shadows to jerk and dance, twisting her heart-shaped face into an ugly mask as she waited for his denial and angry words. The silence stretched between them for long moments as they looked at one another in the nearly dark kitchen, then Gimli finally decided to speak.

"What terrible thing hurt you so, Ruby? What happened to twist you into the spiteful being you are now?" he asked her quietly, and his question knocked her off balance.

"You are beautiful, Ruby…but it's only a mask for the ugly bitterness within," he continued, an undercurrent of sadness in his deep voice, and a look of pure pity in his eyes which glowed an eerie bronze in the light of the flickering candle. 

In some part of Ruby's inebriated mind, his quiet words and the compassion in his eyes hit home and held up a mirror in which she had long refused to look. She greatly didn't like what she saw, for with an angry shriek, she slammed her fists down on the table and knocked everything off the table. The candle went out and they were immediately plunged into darkness as her mug and the ceramic jug of alcohol smashed to the hard flagstone floor of the kitchen.

"Mark my words, Dwarf! No matter what you do, no matter who you know or where you go, you'll still just be a grubbing MUD-RAT! AND NO ONE WILL CARE! NO ONE!!!" she screamed in the darkness. Her lips trembled, pulled back over her clenched teeth as her wide and wild eyes searched the darkness for him, full of hate, anger and most of all a deep fear. It made her look like some trapped animal searching for an escape, prepared to lash out at anyone in its fright.

For long moments they stood silently in the dark, with only the sound of Ruby's heavy breathing filling the room. She could hardly see anything; the soft blue starlight coming through the windows was not bright enough for her eyes to see by; the Dwarf however was able to see quite well as he silently studied her. Finally the silence was broken again by Gimli's quiet voice.

"That's right… I'll still just be a grubbing mud-rat, and you'll still just be some old lonely whore with a heart of venom…alone in her misery."

The words seemed to strike something deep inside her, and all her anger drain from her as she visibly deflated where she stood.

"You know nothing!" she finally managed to choke out, angry tears now falling unnoticed from her eyes, causing the kohl around them to run.

With that he finally turned away from her, not wanting to even look at her anymore. A few moments later he could hear the heavy swish of her skirt and her unsteady footsteps as she stumbled quickly out of the room, groping the walls, harshly biting her lip to keep back her sobs. 

After her clumsy footsteps had faded, he opened the back door and walked out into the cool night and starlight.

~~~

Gimli stood shirtless in the small courtyard in the back of the brothel, taking no notice of the cool night air as he moved. He appeared as if he were dancing as he went through the forms that his mother had taught him so many long years before and that he knew by heart, with only the starlight for illumination. That posed no problem for his dark accustomed eyes; only the goblins and other evil folk had night vision to rival a Dwarf's.

He had finished another series of complicated forms and was holding the final pose, which was an artful looking defensive stance that could instantly be changed to an offensive one, when he heard a small voice call out to him.

"Gimli?"

"Aye?" he answered as he dropped the pose and straightened up. He looked over his shoulder to see Gwen leaning uncertainly in the dark doorway behind him, fully dressed and not in her simple nightgown.

"Gwen, I thought you were in bed long ago. What can I do for you?" 

"N-Nothing, I was just watching," she said. Her eyes followed him as he walked back and put his two axes down on the step, before picking his shirt up from where he had tossed it earlier and pulling it over his head. 

"Um… I never really got ta give my proper thanks. I--I would like to repay you for your kindness. If not for you, Crasus would still be comin' around…" Her soft voice trailed off, and she bit her bottom lip at the memory of the abusive Man.

"Pray, think nothing of it. It was an honor to help," Gimli told her seriously as he sat down on the step, giving her a smile.

There was a long moment of silence as she watched him take out his hair tie and refasten it, and with a surge of pride she saw that the many braids she had done earlier were still there. Coming to an internal decision she stepped away from the door frame to stroll over to him, making a point of swinging her hips, trying to put on a seductive air as she had seen so many of the other brothel residents do. Gimli, hearing her approach, glanced up at her as she came to gracefully sit down on the stone step next to him.

"I want to give you a proper show of my thanks," she said, leaning back on her hands and trying to coyly flip her hair. Gimli just looked at her blankly, watching her sudden strange behavior. Gwen felt an embarrassed blush rise to her cheeks when she realized that it was clear he had no idea of what she was trying to offer. Quickly, she tried a new approach.

"Would you like, you know… I want ta thank ya proper like. For what ya done for me," she said, sitting up again then picking up one of his large hands and placing it over one of her small breasts. "If you want…no charge, o' course." She attempted to give him a seductive smile.

He blinked in surprise, then gave her a sad pitying look and carefully pulled his hand away from her chest and small hands. Here he was thinking he had it bad, yet here was this waif of a child-- not even a full Woman and the use of her body was the only way she could think of to repay someone. At least he could fight with his fists and axes; she didn't even have that.

"It's my face, isn't it? I'm ugly…" she said, her smile crumbling before she turned away, hiding her scarred face in her hands.

"Nay, you are wrong! You are lovely…too lovely for someone such as I."

"But that's not true!" she cried in denial, shaking her head. "Look at me! These scars…no one will ever want me! Master Clots even said so. No one will pay good coin for some cut-up whore!" 

But Gimli just shook his head, giving her a small smile as he gently rubbed her back. 

"Not so! Clots was a gold-grubbing piece of troll shit; listen to nothing that fool said! Never let anyone judge you because of your scars, Lady Gwen. If they do-- then they are fools and not worth your time!" he told her earnestly. 

"We all carry scars. Some on our skin…others on our hearts. It is those scars that make us who we are, always reminding us of what we have survived." 

He reached over and gently picked up one of her pale hands, marveling at how small and delicate it looked in comparison to his own tanned and callused one. He then brought it to his lips and reverently kissed the back of her smooth knuckles.

"You should not be sad, my Lady Gwen. For one as sweet as bee pollen on a summer wind and as lovely as a moon-lily on the first day of spring… sadness does not suit you. Only laughter and light does," he told her, a roguish smile on his lips before releasing her hand.

A pretty blush rose to her scarred cheeks as a shy smile pulled at her rosebud lips before she meekly hid her face in the material of her blue skirt with a twittering giggle. Gimli gave a good-natured chuckle at her reaction, pleased that he had made her feel better.

A hushed but comfortable silence descended over them, with the exception of the constant noise from the town around them, until Gwen perked up and seemed to remember something. 

"Oh! I know!" she suddenly chirped excitedly. "If I can do nothing else, let me at least tell you your fortune!"

"I don't--"

"Oh please! I want to do something," she cried, twisting her fingers in her lap.

"Oh alright," he relented, not able to stand up against the full power of those big watery eyes. 

Gwen gave a happy squeak, and Gimli couldn't help but smile at her infectious cheer. It still marveled him to no end that after all that she had seen and been through, the petite dark-haired teen could still stay so sweet and innocent.

"I don't have to get up and do some sort of dance or stand on my head, do I?" Gimli asked, trying to sound serious while looking at her sideways with one copper eyebrow cocked.

"No, no! Of course not, don't be silly!" she giggled.

"Well… alright. But no funny stuff!" he growled at her, giving her a long suspicious look, making her giggle some more.

"Promise!" she laughed, before scrambling up and dashing back into the dark kitchen.

Several long minutes later she came back with a steaming mug of tea and a small cloth that held some crushed tea leaves, and sat back down next to him on the step before handing him the earthenware mug. She then explained that her mother had worked as a laundress at one of the big inns in town and had done fortune telling along the main street for extra money. Her mother had made sure to teach her daughter how to tell fortunes as her mother had taught her, and so on.

He now did as she instructed, holding the mug of steaming tea in his broad hands after she had sprinkled a pinch of the crushed tea leaves into it, and she put her small slender hands over his as she chanted under her breath, her eyes closed in concentration. She sat next to him closely, their knees touching as they partly faced one another.

As she continued to chant, Gimli let his brown eyes wander about the small courtyard with its one large tree, its thick roots pushing up and cracking the flagstones at its base, surrounded by the bits of broken pottery and glass that littered the ground. The drab and ill-repaired buildings to either side and at the back of the courtyard acted as walls for the otherwise open bit of space. Short alleyways strung with clotheslines led between the buildings to the street in the front. 

The sounds of Ocendade filled the night air: a couple arguing heatedly in the building across the way, the continual loud wailing of an infant in the building on the left, a rowdy group of boys running down one of the narrow alleys playing with a leather ball. A Man was singing loudly nearby as a cat yowled in heat somewhere, while dogs barking in the distance competed with the chirp of crickets. One didn't need the sensitive ears of an Elf to hear the veritable orchestra of sounds that always filled the air in this lower section of town.

As he continued to listen and watch, a gust of wind caused the branches of the large tree that loomed overhead to gently sway. Then as if plucked by invisible fingers, a single leaf broke off and fell, twirling in the wind. It gracefully fluttered and danced in the breeze, and Gimli watched with some bemusement as that very same leaf came to land right in his mug of tea.

It just so happened that that was the exact moment Gwen's chanting finally stopped and she opened her big dark eyes. 

But instead of seeing an image of Gimli's future or the image of some great future love of his life in the tea, she saw only a slender jewel-green leaf happily creating ripples in the otherwise calm surface of the tea. 

She stared confused, not understanding what she was seeing.

_Leaf… Green Leaf? _

She gave a blink, _Green Leaf? Whatever could that mean? That couldn't be right_…

"That's so strange, it always worked before. I-I did it just like Mother taught… I must have done something wrong," she said out loud to herself in confusion, before looking up at the Dwarf with wide apologetic eyes. 

"Oh, I'm sorry Gimli! I'll try again-" But Gimli just laughed and gave her a winning smile, soothing her anxiety.

"That is quite alright, Lady Gwen! I'm sure you did it right, but perhaps it just does not work for Dwarves, eh?" he said with a shrug. "I thank you for the gesture anyway, but perhaps my future is best left in the mists of mystery." 

He then gingerly plucked the dripping leaf from the steaming liquid, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger, and admired the deep emerald green color of its long elegant shape, with its intricate ribs and veins of lighter green. Putting the mug of tea on the step between them, he continued to study the leaf, twirling it gently by its stem as a strange little shiver suddenly danced up his spine. 

"Gimli?

"Aye?" he asked, Gwen's sweet voice shaking him from his thoughts as he finally let the leaf flutter to the ground.

"What you said about before…about my scars?" 

"Aye," he said, still not looking up from gazing at the slender leaf now lying dejectedly on the ground by one of his booted feet.

"Does….does that go the same for your scars?" she asked quietly.

That gave the young Dwarf pause and he finally turned to look at her, watching as she softly traced a large scar running along his broad bicep until it disappeared under his red shirt. Her large doe-eyes turned up then, looking expectantly at him, waiting for his answer. 

All was quiet for a time, as the two sat on the step studying one another while a playful breeze tugged on their loose hair.

"Aye, that goes for mine too," Gimli finally answered, watching as a small smile tugged at her lips. 

Though they were as different as two beings could be, they both looked at one another with complete understanding just then before finally turning their gazes up to the lightening sky. Sitting in companionable silence on the stone step, with Gimli's steaming mug of tea between them, they watched as another day slowly arose in the east, over the crowded rooftops of Ocendade, painting the sky with brilliant pink and gold.

Anyone catch the foreshadowing of a certain Elf in Gimli's future ~_^ ?

Alright, now for some notes!

(1.) Disturbing, but true. Children were being executed like adults up until this last century in many countries and it's unfortunately still happening in others.

(2.) I made this completely up, but I figured that with all the power and magic that some Elves are capable of (look at Celebrimbor and the three Elven rings of power), why should there not be some truly awesome Elvish painters ~_^ ?

(3.) In folklore of Europe (especially Ireland and Scotland) it is said that faeries often dance in the circles in the grass. These are usually hazardous for mortals to step into, leaving them vulnerable to enchantment.

(4.) A folk tale told in parts of the British Isles of a malicious and hideous water faerie (or hag, depending on the telling) with green skin. Told to keep children away from bogs, rivers, and other bodies of water.

(5.) A Scottish water faerie, usually seen in the form of a young horse, near rivers and streams. 

(6.) Just an old wives' tale told in that part of the region. As if an Elf would want a mortal child, *snort* of course they wouldn't! This was just a way to show how people who don't understand something will usually wrap stories and legends around it as a way of explaining. It's also to show how over time the mysterious and fading Elves will evolve into the mysterious "faeries" in people's legends and minds, as the magic of Middle-earth fades and the world of Men takes over.

(7.) I owe this from a discussion on Axe_Bow a while back. In some old folk tales from certain regions it was said that Dwarves cannot appear above ground during the day, for the sunlight would turn them to stone. Boy have they got Dwarves wrong O_o!

(8.) More folklore about Dwarves. This is another tidbit that I got from a discussion on Axe_Bow, about old folklore from different areas like Germany and Scandinavia.

(9.) I think Dwarves having eyes that glow like a cat's in the dark is a perfectly plausible idea. It only makes sense that they would have highly adapted night-vision thanks to living underground. I love this idea! I owe this great idea to Lisa Williams (I swear she knows absolutely everything about Tolkien and is a wonderful resource for ideas), who threw this out on the Axe_Bow ML. Thank you for the great idea ~_^!

(10.) In this area of Middle-earth (to the west of Bree) this is a negative and derogatory term for Elves. Seelie is a Scottish name for the faerie. I was looking for a derogatory term for Elves in the books, but just couldn't find any, so I had to come up with something. So this is my own idea and not to be taken as canon.


	12. The Winds of Battle

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 9)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for extreme violence)

Warnings: Major angst

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few of the original characters, Gimli and all the other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli in the year while he and Thorin's company were away on their Quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli then don't read this fic.

Notes: This is Book-version, not the Movie version.

More notes: **Now beta-ed! Big thanks to the lovely Little My, my wonderful beta-reader ! Any mistakes are my fault alone.**

" "means someone is speaking in Sindarin

"The Winds of Battle"

The day had drifted to late afternoon, the shadows long upon the ground, the crisp air heralding the arrival of evening. The Lonely Mountain stood proudly in all its grandeur in the distance,as if in contemptuous defiance against the two armies that camped before it, ready to lay siege to those that resided within.

In a small clearing below in the outskirts of the dark forest of Mirkwood, all was quiet as a Grey Wizard and a Dwarf sat by their small camp's fire, the only sound being the occasional snap and hiss of the flames. Gandalf's pipe had long since been smoked and put away. His storm-grey eyes watched as more crows gathered in the distance at the foot of the Mountain, as he thought about the dark tale he had heard, digesting it and in turn storing it away in the vast library of his mind. The long silence continued as neither spoke, for the young Dwarf had nothing more to say and the Wizard had no words that would properly articulate his thoughts.

A crow let out a cackling call from somewhere in the distance as a gentle gust of wind tugged on the loose strands of their hair, causing the small fire to leap and writhe. Gandalf finally turned his ancient eyes to the young Dwarf sitting quietly next to him. Gimli's large brown eyes were now closed as he rested his chin on his upraised knees that he hugged to his chest, a palpable tiredness about him as if the mere telling of his story had drained him. It was then that the Wizard reached out and offered the only comfort he could to the copper-haired Dwarf.

Gimli's eyes opened at the feeling of a warm hand upon his head, and looking to his left he saw that it was Gandalf, the Istari's expression compassionate.

Gandalf watched as the young Dwarf's eyes drifted shut again and he let go of his legs before leaning against the Wizard's side, taking the comfort the Istari offered. And for a small moment he was simply Gimli again, from simpler days— the young Dwarf who always stayed up too late dancing and drinking, always getting into trouble with Ulfr and giving poor Gloin premature grey hairs.

Gandalf gladly took Gimli's heavy weight upon his side, giving the young Dwarf's head a paternal pat. He felt a small surge of pride, feeling almost privileged that after all Gimli had been through and had faced, he accepted Gandalf's offer of comfort without hesitation. How strange that this simple act seemed to soothe a small part of him as well, for even a great Istari like he craved some small measure of comfort every now and then. And after what he and the rest of the White Council had seen and done in their dark dealings with Dol Guldur, lair of the Necromancer, and the no doubt costly battle he knew that was soon to come, he would not begrudge a small gesture of reassurance.

The two continued to sit in calm silence, both of their minds far away in their own thoughts, one thinking of the future, the other of the past. Unfortunately the peace was utterly shattered when another being decided to make its presence known just then.

"THAT STENCH!!!" came a sudden loud and grating voice from behind them.

Gandalf and Gimli sprang to their feet with a yell of fright, both whirling around, axes, staff and sword instantly in hand, hearts racing, prepared for battle. Two tall pines at the edge of the clearing swayed for a moment as a massive dark-furred shape shouldered its way past their trunks -- it was Beorn, in bear form, back from his wanderings.

Seeing who it was, Gandalf relaxed with an irritated sigh, lowering his poised sword and staff with a roll of his eyes. _By the Valar, must he always find himself surrounded by idiocy? _he thought sourly to himself.

Gimli also lowered his weapons before returning them to their holsters at his sides, but did not completely relax as he glared at the newly arrived Beorn. The massive bear reared up onto its hind legs to tower above them; so large was he that he blocked out the sight of the Lonely Mountain behind him. Gimli had to fight the urge to take a step back and reach for one of his axes again, but he managed to steel himself and not move from his spot next to Gandalf as he warily watched.

"Beorn! Damn it all!" Gandalf groused angrily, as he dropped his staff in disgust before shoving Glamdring back into its scabbard with a loud 'snick'. Beorn didn't seem to care one way or the other, for the mammoth bear only gave them a rude snort as he looked down his massive snout at the two. Then a strange wind that neither the Dwarf nor the Wizard felt began to ripple the thick dense fur of the were-bear's pelt. To Gimli it looked as if the bear's features were blurring as a prickling of static surged in the air around them, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. The two watched as Beorn's features again came into focus but instead of the massive bear from just moments before, there now stood a huge Man wearing a simple tunic with a large, coarse black beard on his broad homely face.

"Really, Beorn. It is no wise thing to startle a Wizard!" Gandalf snapped, putting a fist on his hip.

"Aye! He could have turned you into something uglier than you already are, fool!"

"Gimli!" Gandalf hissed, shooting the copper-haired Dwarf a glare (who only rolled his eyes) before turning his attention back to the skin-changer.

"I swear that foul stench is enough to drive one insane!" Beorn continued to rant, completely ignoring both the Dwarf and the Wizard. His lip curled as he glared pointedly at the still smoking venison above the fire.

"Short trip for some," Gimli snorted under his breath. Ignoring Gandalf's warning glance, he crossed his arms over his chest and turned to look off at the Mountain in the distance.

Beorn was still glaring at the cooking venison when he suddenly turned to look down at the grumpy Grey Wizard, as if remembering something he had wanted to say before getting side-tracked.

"If you're interested-- not that I care! The Elven host and the Men of the Lake seem to be preparing for a siege of the Mountain. The birds also tell me that there is a large host of Dwarves heading this way at top speed, from the East."

"Dwarf host? They could only be from the Iron Hills!" said Gimli excitedly, his head snapping in their direction as he uncrossed his arms.

"Aye, Dain the Ironfoot himself leads them. It appears Thorin was wise to seek his aid, though even I am surprised at their speed," Gandalf answered, more to himself than to the other two as he stroked his white beard in thought.

Gimli watched the Wizard with wide eyes at hearing this, for this was all news to him. Not to mention the excitement at the thought of maybe getting to actually see one of the greatest heroes of Middle-earth, the famed Dain II, son of Nain, slayer of Azog and legendary warrior of the battle of Azanulbizar.

"With any luck, they might get to the mountain before the Goblin horde," Gandalf said to himself.

"Goblin horde!?" Gimli loudly exclaimed while Beorn's attention also snapped to the Wizard, his posture suddenly tense.

Gandalf let out a great irritated sigh as he tiredly closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he had not just said that aloud. But there was nothing to be done about that now— he might as well just tell Gimli. Reaching this decision, he opened his eyes again and watched the proud mountain in the near distance for a long moment.

"Aye, since the death of the Great Goblin, the goblins and orcs have been amassing an army, bent on avenging him. Led by none other then Bolg of the North himself, they are racing to the Mountain as we speak. Now I must see if I can show all these damned fools the folly of all this petty squabbling over old Smaug's gold-- for their true enemy is coming!"

"Let the Goblins come! The more the better, I say! Means all the more that I can kill!" Beorn boomed with a nasty grin on his broad face, as he slammed his massive fist against his meaty palm to illustrate his eagerness.

"I agree! My axes cry with a thirst that only their foul kind's blood can quench!" Gimli declared with a resolute nod of his head, clenching an upraised fist.

Gandalf, however, did not share his companion's eagerness, in fact he noticeably frowned at Gimli's words. He took a deep breath and turned to the young Dwarf again. "You, Gimli, will not be going anywhere. You have been through enough as is," he said, standing up to his full height and looking down at the copper-haired Dwarf with his best 'You will listen to me, because I'm your elder' look.

Gimli simply stared at him, his mouth partially open, arms slack at his sides for a long moment, digesting what Gandalf had just said. The Wizard mentally counted to ten and sure enough at the count of ten, Gimli's large brown eyes narrowed and he visibly began to bristle. In all his travels in Middle-earth, Gandalf had come to the conclusion that only Dwarves had the ability to truly bristle— like cats, their hair could noticeably lift up a bit. He watched this happen with Gimli and readied himself for the explosion he knew was to follow.

"NO! I am no child to be kept out from underfoot! I will not be denied this fight, Gandalf!" Gimli yelled. But Gandalf would not be dissuaded from his decision.

"This will be no mere skirmish, Gimli! This will be a war! And in the end everyone will see that there is plenty of the treasure for all!" As soon as he had said this, Gandalf closed his eyes and gave an internal wince, berating himself for his choice of words.

"Treasure?!" Gimli hissed in disbelief as he glared incredulously at the Wizard. _Had Gandalf heard nothing he had told him? Did he honestly believe he cared anything about that dragon's hoard?_

"Piss on Smaug's treasure!" the young Dwarf spat. "I care nothing for that old worm's gold! Do you not see? It is the Mountain! A home, Gandalf. A real home-- and my Da and uncle are there! That is the true treasure worth fighting for! The Elf King, Thorin and the rest of 'em can shove all the damned gold up their arses, for all I care!" and he made a very rude hand gesture to illustrate his point.

"Gimli, I already have enough to worry about in this coming battle. I need not have you add to them!" Gandalf said. "Now I know you--"

"No!" Gimli suddenly snarled, interrupting the Grey Wizard, his almond-shaped eyes flashing with fire. So fierce was his countenance that even Gandalf was taken momentarily aback, for in that small moment Gandalf saw not young Gimli, but instead the fiery image of Nei. And while she had been alive Lady Nei had been one of those individuals of Middle-earth that Gandalf had on a mental list to avoid angering at all costs. Actually, she was near the top of that list, along with names like Thranduil and Glorfindel.

"No, it is you who do not understand!" Gimli continued heatedly. "This is a chance for something better, a better life. Taking back our rightful home! I am tired of wandering about, begging for work! I'm so sick of mining coal! Sick of sleeping in barns or doorways like some damn beggar! I'm tired of being hungry and looked down upon like some greedy begging dog!" he growled through his tightly clenched teeth, his broad hands balled into white knuckled fists.

Beorn meanwhile had begun pacing in boredom around the clearing as the two argued, when a small black squirrel slipped down a large tree as he was passing, stopping the skin-changer in his tracks. Its large tail flicked about in excitement and it chattered to Beorn as it clung spider-like to the trunk. Whatever it said caused the huge Man to throw back his head and give a great guffaw, and both the Wizard and Dwarf paused for a moment to glance his way before turning back to their argument.

"I am sorry, Gimli. But I expressly forbid it! You have no armor and I know that if your father were here, he would forbid it as well. You may not go and that is final!"

Gandalf cautiously watched the young Dwarf battle with himself and it seemed for a moment that Gimli would continue to argue, but then the tension suddenly drained out of him and Gimli's broad shoulders slumped in seeming defeat. Gandalf reached out and gave Gimli's shoulder a reassuring pat, mentally sighing with relief, knowing how hard it must be for the proud young Dwarf to hold back his bitterness and accept his decision. With that hurdle now seemingly over with, the Istari turned to other matters that needed to be dealt with.

"Now then… the evening grows late and I have tarried here for too long already," Gandalf said, giving the dejected Gimli a final pat before turning his attention to the mountain again, his hand now thoughtfully stroking his long white beard. "I must get to the camp of Wood-elves and Bard!" he said aloud, though he spoke more to himself than to Gimli, who now silently watched him with a strange look in his deep brown eyes. Or to Beorn, who, his squirrel friend having left, was now rudely scratching at an itch in his crotch as he stared blandly at the Grey Wizard.

But Gandalf gave no mind to either of them as he thought furiously of what he should do. He couldn't leave Gimli alone, knowing the young Dwarf would simply try to join the coming battle if he left him here to his own devices. That meant he would have to come with him, for even if Beorn had not been planning to take part in the battle, he would not trust to leave the young Dwarf and the large skin-changer together unsupervised, especially if the events from earlier that day were anything to go by. The Wizard supposed that he would have to leave Gimli in the care of one of the camps, though the way both the Lake Men and Elves no doubt felt about Dwarves in general at the moment would be troublesome. He quickly decided that it would be best for all if he left Gloin's son in the care of Thranduil's people rather than that of the Lake Men. With any luck he might even convince Thranduil to leave a few of his guards to keep an eye on the Dwarf. And maybe even persuade him to have Legolas be one of those guards, which would take care of at least two of his worries.

Thranduil would most assuredly not be thrilled with the charge and Gandalf was not looking forward to Gimli's no doubt loud and violent reaction, but he knew he could trust Thranduil to keep the young Dwarf safe for him. He owed Gloin and Lady Nei that much at least. And, he admitted sourly to himself, to an extent he owed it to, Thorin and the rest of the Dwarves in the company, for not having sent word to Thranduil to let the Elven King know of the Dwarves' presence in his woods, or to have had the foresight to have given Thorin a quick letter signed by him, explaining their presence, in case they got lost or were come upon by any of Thranduil's people. But unfortunately for all, he had not thought of it; his mind had been on other things like the White Council and the matters of the Necromancer.

Now with the problem of where to keep the young Dwarf decided, he began to get ready to leave, walking over to collect his tall staff which was still laying where he had thrown it down earlier.

"Come, Gimli. I'm afraid you'll have to leave most of the venison behind, for we have no time for it to finish smoking. We must get to the Mountain in all possible haste!" With his back turned as he spoke, the Wizard never saw Gimli drop nimbly into a crouch and swing one of his strong legs out in a perfectly executed sweeping maneuver.

"Now then get your things and--!!

Gandalf let out an exclamation of surprise when out of nowhere a sudden force knocked his feet out from under him just as he was bending down to pick up his staff. His long beard flew up and he fell heavily on his rear end with a loud indignant curse.

In the next instant a large shower of sparks went up as Gimli kicked the fire, knocking over the sticks of wood that held the smoking venison (after quickly managing to snatch a large piece of half-smoked meat) and adding more to the confusion.

"Forgive me, Gandalf, but this is something I must do!!" Gimli yelled in apology as he made a mad dash across the clearing, piece of venison in hand, his three axes on his belt clinking merrily and his thick copper ponytail flying out behind him.

Gandalf immediately sat up and angrily adjusted his large hat out of his eyes. He looked up just in time to see Gimli bolt past a laughing Beorn, who simply watched him go before the Dwarf disappeared into the woods. All of this took place in a matter of seconds.

"Gimli! Get back here this instant! GIMLI!!!" Gandalf bellowed angrily after him as he snatched up his staff.

Seeing that Gimli had no intentions of coming back and knowing that he would be unable to catch him, Gandalf decided that he would be forced to use his magic if he wanted to stop the Dwarf before it was too late. Stumbling to his feet, the Wizard began to quickly mutter a simple spell he had learned from the Silvan Elves while he pointed his staff in the direction the Dwarf had gone. But he was forced to halt his spell with a frustrated curse when Beorn stepped unthinkingly right in his way, his huge back to the now fuming Wizard.

"Hahaha! I had no idea Dwarves could run that fast!" Beorn laughed, still looking appreciatively in the direction Gimli had disappeared.

"_Damn it all! I am completely surrounded by FOOLS!" _Gandalf cursed to himself, throwing up his hands as he looked to the heavens in utter frustrated exasperation.

"By the Valar! Why did you not stop him!? Gandalf then demanded out loud as he angrily adjusted his hat again.

"What does it matter?" Beorn said with a snort, giving the Istari a brief glance over his shoulder. "The Cub is going the same direction as you," he added, crossing his great arms over his chest. His tone suggested that it was so obvious a thing, Gandalf must clearly be stupid not to see it, and he cared not in the least about the Grey Wizard's outrage.

Gandalf tugged at his white beard in frustration as he gave the skin-changer one more infuriated glare. But Beorn took no further notice of him, and instead let out a face-cracking yawn before lumbering rudely off, without so much as a farewell, back into the woods.

Gandalf stood there alone in the clearing for a long moment, with the small tree, the smoking remains of the now extinguished fire and the scattered bits of sticks and half- cooked venison, before giving his head a shake. _He had no time for this!_ He was already terribly late and could only hope that he would get to the encampment of Wood-elves and Lake Men by nightfall. No matter how much he wished it were not so, Gimli's fate was now out of his hands. _As if he didn't have enough to worry about_!

The Wizard sent up a quick prayer, _Valar watch out for that one. May Nei's child prove to have her same greatness with an axe! _For Gandalf had no illusions that he would need it very soon. _Valar watch out for them all…_

With that the Wizard snatched up his dark cloak from the ground, pulled it about his shoulders and stormed away, grumbling to himself as he once again continued his journey to the Mountain in the near distance, now painted red and orange in the late afternoon light. It had been a very trying day and looked to be a very trying night, not to mention the day to come!

_Dwarves, Elves, Men, Hobbits, Goblins, were-bears! Bah, to the lot of them! _he thought crankily to himself as he made his way through the forest.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was several days later that Gandalf found himself, arms uplifted, voice raised, standing between the advancing ranks of Dwarves, Men and Elves that prepared to clash against one another.

"Halt!" he cried, his appearance startling those on either side. "Halt!" his voice thundered, his staff giving a brilliant flash like a bolt of lightning.

He had finally had enough! He had had enough of the ignorance, bigotry, greed and petty squabbling of Thorin, Thranduil and Bard in these last days. His words of advice and warning had fallen unheeded upon their deaf ears. It had finally come to this, when it was almost too late, with the true enemy now bearing down on them all— it was their last chance!

The lust for Smaug's gold had brought out the worst in all those here, and it was this that had made him so frustrated with the Dwarves, Elves and Men of the Lake. For Gandalf knew all these people; he was not surrounded by petty or selfish beings, he was surrounded by good people! Heroes and noble beings that should not be squabbling amongst themselves!

But he knew that there was a driving force behind their reasons to keep or want a portion of the treasure, and all sides had just claims on the gold. Thranduil, who had marched his army out of the forest to the Mountain in hopes of gaining the, then thought, unguarded treasure, was driven by the needs of his people. His kingdom's depleted armory and treasury desperately needed replenishing, and with some of the treasure they could buy much needed supplies, weapons and goods for their long and continued struggle against the threat of spiders and other dark forces. Unlike the other Elven Kingdoms of Rivendell or Lothlorien, Thranduil had no powerful ring to guard against threats, nor did his Kingdom have the safety of the sea and the shielding of the Blue Mountains like Lindon. Only the strength and determination of his people kept the shadow of Dol Guldur at bay.

The same went for Thorin— for all his obsession and pompousness, was his cause not just? The Mountain and gold were rightly his and his people's. It was not by Elven hands, nor the hands of Men that the great halls of the Mountain had been formed; it was not by their pain, sweat and labor that the treasure had been dug and wrought. It was certainly not the Elves that Smaug had mostly destroyed and burned to cinders, chasing the few that survived from their rightful home. It was not they who were forced into exile all these years. If any had a right, was it not Thorin to reclaim his rightful home and wealth?

Like both Thranduil and Bard, Thorin also had his people's needs to think about. Some of his people were still forced to wander about, poor, doing the most menial of work— digging ditches and graves, coal mining and blacksmith-work if they were lucky. And while the Halls in Ered Luin were not so badly off anymore, with the opportunity of working with steel, bronze and wood, and a continued business of making tools, furniture, and simple weapons, they could be better off. Ered Luin was also rather small and space was limited, but here in Erebor there was space for all and his people could work again with stone, gold and silver! Once again the Dwarves could create glorious works of art, marvelous toys and glittering jewelry, and forge finely wrought and sought after weapons and armor.

Bard too was justified in his want of some of the treasure— was he not the one to single-handedly slay the dragon with his great bow? He too had people now homeless and in need, thanks to Smaug's burning wrath. And while at the moment they had the aid of the Wood-elves, they would need more if they wished to begin to rebuild their homes.

All three, the Lake Men, the Wood-elves and the Dwarves, saw themselves as just in their cause — to an extent they all were and Gandalf knew it. They were all wrong in their personal bigotry and ignorance, but right in their need. But for now, more pressing matters would need to be dealt with first, before these squabbles could be sorted out.

"Dread has come upon you all! Alas! It has come more swiftly than I guessed. The goblins are upon you!" Gandalf boomed before turning in Dain's direction, hand outstretched. "Bolg of the North is coming, O Dain! whose father you slew in Moria."

"Behold! The bats are above his army like a sea of locust. They ride upon wargs!" He spoke to all the armies now, watching the looks of confusion and amazement on their faces, and as if in step with his warnings the sky above grew ever darker. The Dwarves halted and gazed at the sky. The Elves cried out with many voices. It was then that Gandalf felt a moment of small triumph as he watched the armies' reactions. _Now they saw. Now there was some hope for the coming battle, _he thought to himself

There was a stirring within Dain's army as some of their armored ranks stepped aside to allow Dain to come forth. Gandalf watched the striking dark-haired Dwarf clad in fine shining armor striding towards him, flanked by two of his best warriors bearing finely wrought weapons and shields. A quick glance at the Elven and Lake Men's forces showed Thranduil, now clad in kingly green and gold armor, coming proudly forth with Bard at his side, flanked by their men. Gandalf even caught sight of Legolas as the young archer walked resolutely behind his father with his two elder brothers.

"Come!" he then called to all. "There is yet time for council. Let Dain son of Nain come swiftly to us!"

For the true battle has come…

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Gloin was in a daze as he swung his axe at any orc or goblin that came near, running more on pure instinct than skill, his heart hammering in his chest as he willed himself to keep calm. Panic was a deadly thing in a fight. The heavy mail hauberk and helmet he had found and now wore chafed, making him feel clumsy as he wished desperately for the hundredth time that he was wielding his beloved long knife instead of the heavy battle axe he held in both hands. But thanks to the Wood-elves, he and the others of Thorin's company had been stripped of their previous weapons and so had been forced to use the ones they could find in the old armories in the Mountain. Oin fought behind him, also clad in a heavy hauberk, swinging an axe with about as much skill as he as they fought back-to-back, both on the defensive rather than the attack.

_Damn it all! He and his brother were jewelers, not seasoned warriors! None of them were! _Gloin cursed to himself as he just barely ducked a sword swipe that would have taken off his head. He slammed his axe into his attacker's side, but no sooner had he ripped his bloody weapon from the goblin's flopping corpse than he was on the defensive against another shrieking creature.

Both his lost beloved Nei and his son would have made short work of these damned beasts, and would have made it all look so terribly easy and graceful, he snorted to himself as he clumsily swung the heavy axe he held two- handed. Gloin was no fool; he knew he was no skilled warrior. His mate used to remind him of it constantly whenever he would lose a fight (which happened more often than not).

"My dear stupid Husband. It was pure luck and Mahal's good grace that you managed to survive Azanulbizar!" Nei would say with an exasperated sigh, shaking her head at him while she tended his hurts, usually after having to step in and trounce his opponent for him.

He knew that she was right. But at least during that terrible and costly war, when he was still young and foolish, he had been wielding his long knife and had not been in the main battle, but instead had been desperately helping to defend the army's supplies with many others on the outskirts of the massive battlefield before the great gates of Moria. Not like his fierce Nei, who had been right in the thick of it, her screaming axe in hand, earning her name Nei the Burkdis(1.)! There were songs and poems sung of her even now; only her skill and prowess on the battlefield overshadowed her beauty that day.

But he was not Nei, nor was he his son who had been blessed with inheriting his mother's skills. No, he and his brother were just jewelers, who unfortunately had become so poor that they couldn't afford to buy even the cheapest materials they needed for their chosen craft. So desperate that they had been willing to go on this damned suicide quest for the slim promise of gaining a home and a portion of treasure. Both had been brought along because of their fire-lighting skill— neither of them were skilled in wielding an axe unless there was a need to cut wood or split logs, he thought disgustedly to himself.

Thorin's company had initially made a very grand and impressive start as they came charging out from the gates of the Mountain. Leaping down to the falls' foot, they rushed to the battle trumpet sounding, managing to avoid the rocks hurled at them from above, driving the wargs and goblins back. Thorin rallied the Men, Elves and Dwarves of the various armies to him, then drove directly against the bodyguard of Bolg, but even with all his determination and the renewed fight of the other armies, they could not break the goblin's line. All too soon the battle had degenerated into blind chaos once again, with many of Thorin's company scattered and simply trying to defend themselves and survive.

Gloin himself fought desperately on, keenly aware of Oin's presence behind him. He would not let his little brother down— he was the eldest and it was his job to watch out for him. It was his job to survive! And he would not let Gimli become another orphan, just another poor Dwarf alone and forgotten, spending the rest of his days mining coal for barely enough copper shillings to buy bread, until he died in a cave-in or got black-lung so bad that he would waste away. _No! He would not let that happen_! Gloin found himself fighting with renewed vigor.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of young Fili and Kili working together to take down a large club- wielding orc. The twins made quick work of the villain before having to defend against another attacker, this time a yelling goblin riding upon a large snarling and snapping warg. Like their uncle Thorin, the twins' weapon of choice was a sword rather than an axe, which they both wielded with skill; they had been well trained by the weapons masters of Ered Luin in the Blue Mountains, as befitted two in direct succession to the throne.

Gloin had lost sight of Thorin soon after they had clashed against the goblins, as well as several others of their company including Balin and Dwalin, who he knew could handle themselves. He had seen Dori earlier, his helmet missing and his long inky mane having escaped its tie to whip about him. Unlike the others of their company, Dori did not wear a heavy hauberk; instead he went shirtless except for a simple chest plate and gauntlets, leaving his massively muscled and tattooed arms free. He was also one of the few of their company having no problem holding his own as he swung a huge long handled war hammer about as if it weighed nothing. What the large Dwarf lacked in skill he made up for in pure physical power, for no enemy could get near him. The large Dwarf simply plowed through any block or shield, sending orc and goblin bodies flying.

Gloin remembered how he had pulled Dori aside during their stay in Lake town and asked why he had not simply broken his bonds when the Wood-elves had captured them or why had he not broken down the door to his cell, knowing that the large Dwarf was capable of doing both. Dori's answer had been that he didn't want to hurt anyone or get anyone hurt. _'Sides, those Elves weren't bad, they were just doing their job. And one pretty thing even sang to me, _he said in his deep rumbling voice, rubbing the back of his thick neck and giving a shrug of embarrassment at the glower Gloin gave him. Dori was far too soft and kind-hearted in Gloin's opinion. He and his brothers, Nori and Ori had only come along on Thorin's long-shot quest for a chance of better lives and a proper home, like Gloin himself and Oin.. The three strong Black Locks had been forced to eke out a poor living as porters and ditch-diggers in the town of Shiprock, just a stone's throw from the mining town of Black Hollow.

A Man let out a terrible scream as he was run through by an orc's rusted scimitar, followed a moment later by that same orc being cut down by a Dwarf from Dain's army wielding a battleaxe. It was in that moment that Gloin caught a momentary glimpse of poor old fat Bombur, red-faced and sweating profusely, looking like some utter fool who had just barely managed to squeeze himself into someone else's too small armor. Swinging his long- handled axe about with even less skill than he and Oin, his wild strokes were dangerous to both friend and foe alike.

Gloin never could understand why Thorin had let the fat cook come along. He had, to Gloin's mind, proven himself to be completely useless--when he was not a burden. Gloin disliked Bombur, always had. Corpulence in male Dwarves was greatly looked down upon in Dwarven society. In a culture of laborers and warriors, for a Dwarf to simply stay "fat" meant that they must not be working and that they were also very well-to-do to be able to maintain and feed such a weight. Gloin also freely admitted to himself that part of his dislike was due to a certain amount of envy. Bombur and the rest of his relations were a successful family of bakers and cooks, living in the comfort and safety of Ered Luin's halls. They were one of the lucky ones; they had never had to struggle like he and many other Dwarves in exile. At least the two other Broad Beams, Bifur and Bofur, could help out and had proven to be of some use on their journey.

Nearby another Man went down, blood and bone flying as he was struck in the face with a wickedly spiked mace, swung on a heavy chain by a cackling orc. Not far away an Elf desperately fought off an attacking goblin with two long knives in hand. He was trying to defend the fallen body of another Elf, its broken bow still clutched in one hand, the many leaf-fletched arrows fallen from its quiver to lie scattered on the ground. To his left a Dwarf let out scream of pain as a dark snarling warg mangled one of her arms. The beast let go with a howl of pain of its own as the warrior began stabbing it in the chest and neck with her short sword.

_Thorin was such an utter pompous fool! Had he forgotten just what kind of Dwarves made up this party?_ _Simple laborers, tailors, scholars, cooks, porters, coal-diggers and one Hobbit grocer pretending to be a burglar! And with the exception of Thorin himself, not a true warrior in the bunch! They didn't even have Gandalf with them any longer_! Gloin cursed to himself, remembering how he had bitten his tongue to keep from saying exactly that as they had prepared to knock down the wall and join the battle.

He remembered Balin and Dwalin in deep discussion with Thorin as the silver-haired and hawk-nosed Dwarf put on some shining armor. They all knew the battle was turning. The three armies were being pushed back by the dark tide; the goblins would soon win the gate! Thorin was determined to lead them out in a charge and join the battle and while Balin and Dwalin agreed that it was an honorable plan, it was also foolhardy. They had tried to convince him that the best course was to stay put and defend their fortified position. Especially taking into account that while all here could fight with their fists and wield a knife with skill, with the exception of Balin, Dwalin, Fili and Kili and Thorin himself, almost none of their small number were skilled at swinging even an axe or sword!

But Thorin remained deaf to their pleas and could not be dissuaded from his course as he took up an axe. Gloin had watched the silent concerned looks that Kili and Fili gave one another. But he knew that they would resolutely stand behind Thorin (not really having a choice in the matter) even though they clearly did not agree with their uncle's decisions lately and were questioning the logic of this one. He watched Dwalin bitterly shake his head as Balin gave his own snow-white beard a harsh tug of pure frustration, while the rest of them either looked nervously around or tried to steel themselves, clutching. their found weapons in sweaty hands.

Gloin himself was hurriedly trying to re-adjust the too large hauberk that his younger brother now wore; it had clearly been originally made for a much bigger and stronger Dwarf. The ink-haired Ori was fiddling with a trumpet, a sword tucked under his arm as he waited for Thorin to give the signal to sound the call. His equally dark-haired cousins Dori and Nori stood on either side of their erected wall, holding onto the large levers, anxiously awaiting the same signal from Thorin to knock down the wall. None looked happy about it, but the three Black Locks were stoic, accepting whatever fate awaited them and willing to face it head on.

Looking around at the faces of his fellows, Gloin knew he was not the only one who had been disturbed and disgusted by their leader's recent behavior. All knew that Thorin was pompous and a rather large blow-hard, but they also knew that underneath he was a good person and a leader. While he had a tendency to let his ego and pride get the better of him at times, he did care about and worry for his people.

Just his being here was proof of his want for a better life for them. If he truly didn't care about the others he would not have even bothered with the long-shot Quest for Erebor in the first place and would have simply walked away from Gandalf on that road all those years ago. His life had been comfortable enough ruling over the halls of Ered Luin with his sister. And he had put himself in danger for them all a number of times on the Quest--though they had not seen it (all of them stuck in sacks at the time, awaiting to be cooked), they had heard from Bilbo how Thorin had heroically tried to fight off three trolls to rescue them, with nothing but a large burning stick.

Yet none here knew this Thorin of the last couple of days, so strange had his behavior become. Gloin had to wonder how Thorin would react if he knew just how close he had come to being deposed several times in recent days, especially when Thorin had picked up Bilbo and had threatened to bodily toss the small Hobbit down to the rocks below. Neither Thorin, Bilbo, nor those standing below had seen Fili and Kili silently move close, poised to grab both their uncle and the Hobbit at the first sign that Thorin would carry out his threat. All of them had looked to the frowning and worried- looking Balin then, as they had in Mirkwood after losing Thorin, waiting for any sign to act. Luckily for everyone Thorin calmed and did not carry out his threat. But many of their party had watched small Bilbo walk away with Gandalf, Bard and the rest, wishing that they too could simply walk away.

He remembered the disapproving look on little Bilbo's face earlier the previous day as he had looked around at all the other Dwarves of the company, after Thorin had picked up a bow in a fit of fury and fired a shot at the speaker below who had demanded a portion of the treasure for Esgaroth and the Forest. Gloin had given an angry snort at the Hobbit's expression; it was clear that Bilbo thought they all must agree with Thorin's actions. _Idiot! _Gloin wanted to smack him upside the head— even after all this time traveling with them their burglar still hadn't learned to pick up on their subtle expressions. _Fine, let the Hobbit think what he wanted! What did he care!_

But the fact was that many of their company thought Bard within his rights to ask for one twelfth of the treasure, as well as for Thorin to offer some treasure to help the Men of the Lake, who had been hospitable to them during their stay in town. _Bard had slain the dragon after all. If any deserved some of the treasure, was it not he? _And though it rankled and they felt forced, insulted and threatened, should they not just give in and hand over a portion of the treasure to the greedy Elven King, and be done with it? They still had the Mountain in the end, right?

But none had the courage to say their thoughts aloud, so fierce and angry had Thorin's countenance been. Only Balin, backed by Dwalin, and both Fili and Kili had dared to voice their concerns and had almost been struck for it, so furious had Thorin become. No one said it, but all of their party knew that Thorin had fallen under the curse of the dragon's gold; gold-sickness was an ugly thing and everyone knew that gold a dragon has been wallowing in for years was especially cursed. But they had all sworn their loyalty and allegiance to Thorin, though they had sworn it when he was of better mind and heart.

Yet they all had felt betrayed when they saw Gandalf, who they thought a true and staunch ally, open the box and hold the Arkenstone aloft for them to see as he stood with those below. But the worst blow had been when they found that it had been none other the Bilbo himself who had stolen it and given it to Bard.

Gloin's thoughts were interrupted when Oin gave a sharp cry of pain from behind him; an orc's rusted blade had managed to get through his defenses, cutting through his armor and slicing into his shoulder. With a surge of adrenalin Gloin quickly dispatched his spindly goblin opponent to quickly come to his brother's aid. And not a moment too soon, for Oin had dropped his axe in his pain and the orc was bearing down on him, eager to finish off the injured Dwarf. So focused was the beast that it was caught unawares by Gloin's axe. The weapon split its head wide open with a shower of gore, splattering not only Oin but several others nearby, including a weary looking dark-haired Elf and the long- limbed goblin he clashed against.

"Oin!" Gloin cried, putting a concerned and steadying hand on his brother's uninjured shoulder.

"I'm fine--just--just a scratch!" Oin panted with a wince. He tried to give Gloin a reassuring smile as he clutched at his bloody shoulder, but Gloin wasn't fooled even for a moment as he alternately glared at his brother's wound and kept an eye out for another attack. Fortunately, the two Dwarves found themselves in a small lull in the fighting. Gloin watching with worry and fear as Oin took a deep breath before letting go of his shoulder, then reached down with a pained groan to snatch up his fallen axe with a red- slicked hand.

"See…I'm fine," Oin managed to say, trying again to smile at his older brother. But Gloin could see the pain in his brother's deep brown eyes— his smooth face was pale, appearing almost white next to his black beard and the long dark strands of hair that had escaped from his braid to trail out from under his borrowed helmet.

Gloin was just opening his mouth to retort angrily, but unfortunately it was then that their small moment of rest ended. Several goblins came at them, weapons covered in crimson from having just cut down a group of ill- trained Lake Men. Now they set their sights on the two Dwarves, one clearly injured.

Luckily for Gloin and Oin, one of the charging goblins was cut down immediately. A fierce dark-haired Elf in the green garb of the Elves of Mirkwood had taken the opportunity of the goblin's distraction to slice its head clean off, before moving on to her next opponent. Her elegant white curved sword flashed out in a deadly series of thrusts and parries; she seemed to glide through the chaos around her, dealing death to all that opposed her. Gloin thought he remembered seeing her standing next to the Elf King's throne, no doubt one of his top guards, as he watched her disappear back into the mass of fighting.

But Gloin didn't have time to admire her skill for long— he and Oin still had problems of their own. For while the Elven warrior had taken down one assailant, there were still three left bearing down on them.

Gloin found himself facing two opponents, one carrying a spear and the other a heavy club. Oin, who was once again back-to-back with him, faced the third cursing orc, this one wielding an ugly saw-toothed sword. The goblin with the spear charged at him, attempting to run him through, but Gloin managed to knock the spear away from him with his axe. Unfortunately for the goblin its momentum now carried it right by the black-haired Dwarf, and Gloin wasted no time in delivering a devastating blow to the goblin's chest, his blade plowing through the beast's ribs and the soft organs within, cutting the goblin almost in half. Gloin had but a moment to recover from his swing when the other goblin was upon him.

Oin somehow managed to take down his opponent, feinting to the right then landing a surprise chop to the orc's left side, before quickly delivering a death blow to its head. His teeth clenched as the wound in his shoulder screamed in protest at the movement.

Meanwhile Gloin stepped forward to meet his club- wielding opponent and as soon as the goblin came within striking distance he lashed out, throwing his weight into the heavy strike, aiming to take its head off. But to his surprise the goblin managed to step back and avoid the powerful swipe. A nasty grin appeared on its hideously twisted face, showing a mouthful of pointed green and black teeth as its clawed hands tightened on the club it held.

Gloin tried to do a quick reversing maneuver with his axe to counter his mistake and block against the incoming opponent. _Damn it all! He had seen Gimli do this one-handed countless times!_ But unfortunately for Gloin the simple- looking maneuver was much harder to actually do. For he had not even been able bring his reversed swing to bear when the large orc struck out. It hit him full force in the stomach with its heavy club, knocking his axe from his grip as well as the air from his lungs and throwing him back into Oin, causing them to both to crash to the ground.

It was a blow that would have broken ribs or caused internal bleeding in a Man or Elf. But Gloin immediately managed to sit up, an arm around his middle as he gasped for air. His abdomen was spasming, his stomach threatening to expel what food was in it, but no permanent damage was done.Oin however did not move from the ground; already bleeding and injured he had been knocked out by the blow of his brother crashing into him from behind and knocking him harshly to the ground.

Gloin sent a small prayer to Mahal for Oin to remain unconscious and for the goblins to think he was dead and leave his brother be. With any luck maybe one of them could survive this.

"_So this was how it was to end_? Gloin thought to himself with surprising calm. He knew that he would never be able to snatch up his axe and rise in time to defend himself, so instead he simply glared his defiance and hate up at the snickering goblin that stood over him, its heavy club raised and ready to smash him to a bloody pulp.

The goblin was laughing nastily, when the shaft of a leaf- fletched arrow suddenly sank through its left eye and punched into its brain, causing the goblin's head to snap backward. It stood there motionless for a moment before falling forward, very much dead. Gloin had to move his legs out of the way to prevent the large goblin from falling on them.

Never one to let an opportunity slip by, Gloin managed to catch up his fallen axe and quickly scrambled to his feet, turning to see who had saved him even as he took up a protective stance over the still unconscious Oin. His brown eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his rescuer.

Standing behind him, its bow lowering, was a slim long- legged male Elf, his features smooth and delicate, windswept hair around its shoulders in a fall of onyx. He was light-bodied and androgynous, as his race tended to be compared to the heavier- bodied and stronger- featured Elves of Rivendell, but still clearly male and most assuredly a warrior. His dress was that of the rich greens and browns of the Wood-elves, his long legs clad in muddy soft- soled boots, a long white knife at his belt.

During his time in the Wood-elves company, Gloin had come to the conclusion that while they tended to have slighter frames than the Elves of Rivendell and other Elvish folk he had seen during his travels, they also seemed more dangerous, more feral. And the Elf before him was no exception. But while the Elf's clothes and weapons were liberally splattered with foul black blood and even some splashes of red, not a drop of it clung to his pale skin, as if his immortal flesh would not allow any of it to mar his glowing skin.

The Elf looked him square in the face, cocking an elegant sweep of an eyebrow, a small knowing smirk pulling mischievously at the corner of its generous mouth. It clearly recognized him. But Gloin himself had a harder time placing the Elf. _Where had he seen this Elf before? _Had he seen this archer with those that had caught him and his fellows in the dark forest or had he seen him standing near the Elf King's throne, both perhaps? He gave an internal snort. _Damn Elves, they all looked alike to him!_

Gloin still hadn't figured out the Elf's identity when their small moment was interrupted by more shrieking goblins. The Elf's bow was instantly up again and before Gloin even had time to react the Elf had fired an arrow that struck down an orc he had not even noticed coming up behind him, then turned to the goblin that charged forward to strike down the Elf.

Without missing a beat the Elf spun, the long white knife now in hand and slashed the goblin's throat before it had even brought its scimitar all the way up, its bulbous yellow eyes bulging in surprise.

If Gloin thought Nei and Gimli could move with frightening grace, this creature was pure poetry in motion. What he lacked in raw power the Elf more than made up for in astonishing speed and agility, his movements quicksilver.

Suddenly another Elf appeared, this one with brown hair, startling both Gloin and even the first Elf for a moment. This Elf was taller than the first and carried a bow, but this one was also armed with a sword and seemed to be of lower rank than the first, made clear by its manner and the way they spoke together. Gloin could not understand their hurried and hushed conversation, but as he watched them he had to admit that the first Elf was beautiful even compared to his own kind.

The two finished their discussion and the first Elf gave him one more brief glance, then as quickly as he had appeared the Elf was gone along with his companion. Gloin watched them go, bounding away like hunting cats through the chaos, leaving orc and goblin bodies in their wake.

_Saved by a damned Elf! Could this day get any worse!? _he thought to himself,before turning his attention to the immediate danger of another screaming orc.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Legolas almost had to laugh as he remembered the look on the Naugrim's face. He could just see the wheels turning in its head as it tried to place him. _Perhaps Naugrim did not have good memories or maybe their eyesight really was as bad as the stories said, _he thought as he made his way to the ridge defended by his father, Gandalf and the main force of Mirkwood.

He ducked a swipe of a large scimitar then efficiently dispatched the orc, stabbing it through one of its sickly green eyes before quickly moving on. Brandor, one of the archers of his group, followed right behind him. Both of them fired arrows when allowed, but mostly they had to work with their blades in this tight fighting.

He knew most would have left the Naugrim to its fate. Especially that one, whom he remembered to be particularly ill-tempered. Legolas had personally been witness to it, being one of those to capture the pack of Naugrim stumbling through the woods, then later at his father's side as they were questioned, then later still taking his turn in guarding the prisoners.

Somewhere to his right in the swirling chaos he heard a piercing cry of agony from an Elven throat, sending a stab to his heart. He knew a death scream when he heard one. He'd taken another goblin down when he came across a group of Dain's armored warriors. Now these were Naugrim of whom he felt truly wary. From the moment he had set eyes on them, he noticed that these Dwarves were different than the ones he had seen, different from the bumbling band they had found wandering lost in their woods. These Dwarves could truly be called frightening.

He knew that if it had come down to a fight between the army of Wood-Elves and the army of Dwarves, if they could not have felled him by arrows from a distance, it would have fallen to Thranduil himself to battle this Dwarf Lord, Dain. For even at a distance, Legolas could see with his farseeing eyes that this Dwarf exuded a power and majesty that he had only seen in older powerful Elven Lords like his father.

The Dwarves of Dain's army moved through the goblin and orc masses with frightening ferocity and skill, and as if to illustrate this point he watched an orc head go whizzing by, its sickly yellow eyes blinking in surprise. A large Dwarf with a round shield on its back, its long, flame-red beard plaited and tucked into a heavy belt, swung a large battleaxe, skillfully taking out two goblins with one stroke.The two hadn't even fallen when the Dwarf turned and lopped off the arm of another goblin before it could cruelly skewer a wounded and fallen Man.

Behind him Brandor ran a yowling orc through as Legolas himself managed to get enough room to whip his bow out and fire off two arrows. One took a warg in the throat, but the other unfortunately bounced off a goblin's shield (the creature had jerked it up to guard against an attacking Man and inadvertently saved itself) and Legolas gave a curse before quickly moving on. He watched a Dwarf go down with a snarling dark gray warg on top of him, the warg's rider cackling in glee as it swung a nasty looking mace. Its glee however was cut short as one of Legolas' arrows struck it through the chest, and it fell off its mount as he and Brandor ran past.

Legolas momentarily lost his concentration when he and Brandor were forced to jump over several bodies laying in the mud. His heart leapt to his throat as he caught the brief sight of a young Elf around his own age, struggling in the mud, surrounded by the broken bodies of Men, Dwarves, Elves and goblins alike. He was covered in terrible wounds, one of his long legs missing mid-thigh as he struggled weakly to knock away the malicious bats that clawed and bit him. The evil creatures swarmed overhead in the dark sky, swooping down to torment the unfortunates that fell wounded or dead upon the ground and latching onto them vampire-like.

He was further distracted when a cry went up of, "The Eagles! The Eagles!" And not a moment later he heard the striking battle cry of the great birds from above as they joined the fray, swooping down on their foes, scattering the swarms of bats in their wake. Legolas could see that some of the great birds clutched large heavy stones as they flew overhead, dropping them on the evil folk below. He felt his heart gladden some at the sight, letting in a ray of hope.

Unfortunately, with his attention on the Eagles, Legolas unknowing had run right into a contingent of some of Bolg's bodyguards. He gave an internal hiss, berating himself for his lapse in concentration as he found himself in the midst of the giant goblins. They were almost as big as trolls! No sooner had he thought this than one of the massive creatures spotted him, bringing a large club down where he stood with a bellow. It would have smashed him to a bloody pulp if he hadn't nimbly sprung out of the way, his long white knife in hand. Unfortunately he had leapt from one danger directly to another—as he landed, his back bumped into something disturbingly large and solid.

Legolas instantly spun, on guard, only to see that he had run into an even bigger goblin than the first. _Too close! _he cursed himself. He tried to spring away again and gain some needed room to maneuver, but by bad luck on his part and pure luck on the huge goblin's part, its massive hand snatched out and caught him by one of his long legs. With a yell, Legolas found himself suddenly hoisted into the air.

He heard Brandor cry out from somewhere behind and below him.

"No!! Legolas hang-- hughk!"Brandor's cry was cut short as a Goblin wielding an ugly looking mace struck him down from behind. The dark-haired Elf was dead before he even hit the ground.

"NOOOO!"Legolas yelled as he struggled to release himself. He stabbed and slashed with renewed pain and outrage at the scaly stone-like hand that gripped him.

"Look what I caught!" called the massive goblin to another. It peered at its struggling catch, seeming to take no notice of the Elf's knife stabbing its hand or the battle that continued to rage around them. Another massive goblin stepped up to squint and sniff at its friend's catch. It made the mistake of sniffing too close to the struggling prey, and got a nasty cut on its bulbous nose for its troubles.

"Bash its pointy little head in!" it snapped, glaring at Legolas and clutching its bleeding nose.

"Nah! I'm gonna bite off its pretty face!" the first said with a nasty laugh, and the second one joined in with its own harsh cackle.

But a moment later the other goblin jerked and its laughter cut off, its mouth dropping open as its small pig-like eyes snapped wide in shock. The massive body then fell as if it were a puppet whose strings had suddenly been cut. It collided heavily against the Goblin holding Legolas, causing it to grunt and stumble before the body hit the ground. Both Legolas and his captor looked down and saw the horrible slice across its spine, the powerful stroke clearly having severed the spinal cord between its thick vertebra.

The massive goblin gave a bellow of rage, crying out what must have been the other creature's name. A close friend or a sibling perhaps? It struck a part of Legolas's mind as terribly alien, that such dark and horrible creatures might actually form attachments to one another. Legolas was unable to see who had felled the beast, for the hand that still imprisoned his leg began to whip him about as the goblin turned to this new attacker.

Legolas only had time to gasp in surprise as he felt the iron grip on his leg tighten, causing him to hiss in pain and claw and slash at the scaly hand. He was flung to and fro, the velocity causing his body and arms to fly about helplessly, and then he felt himself being bodily thrown. As he flew through the air, the world became a blur as it rushed by, and he saw just a momentary flash of a pair of wide brown eyes coming at him before he crashed into something solid. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, and he heard whomever he had hit let out an 'Oughf!' as they both slammed into the muddy ground.

Legolas lay unmoving, his pale face covered in blood-soaked mud, too stunned to even lift his head to see who or what he had crashed into. Then he felt whomever- it- was sit up, and a hoarse voice yelled, "Get off me!"

He had just managed to struggle up, his knife still in hand, when a cruel hand suddenly gripped him by his hair and yanked him back, his long neck protesting. He gave an involuntary cry of pain as he felt his body lose contact with the ground.

This might have badly hurt or even broken the neck of a Man, but luckily for Legolas he was an Elf and no frail weakling.

Whoever dared to touch him in such a manner would regret it! _No one treated him like that and lived!_ Seething, Legolas tightened his grip on his white knife a moment before he hit the ground again, the thick red mud cushioning his impact. He had just rolled into a crouch, furiously wiping the muck from his eyes, when the goblin's scimitar slammed into the ground where he and whoever -it- was had been sprawled just a moment before, sending mud flying. The sight of it and the massive bellowing goblin extinguished his anger at the realization that whoever's harsh actions had saved them both.

The huge goblin took up its weapon again and turned its attention to Legolas' unseen ally, ignoring him and in turn denying Legolas the chance to see who had inadvertently saved his life, twice.

Legolas prepared to get up and help take down the massive monster, but another goblin spotted him then. Its eyes were alight in anticipation as it made the mistake of thinking that the lithe Elf was down because of an injury. His sharp ears hearing the goblin run up behind him, Legolas spun and kicked the legs out from under the creature. Leaping agilely to his feet like a cat, he then jumped into the air and came down with both narrow feet on the lanky goblin's neck, crushing its windpipe before it even had time to raise its ugly head. The Elf sprang acrobatically off, doing a quick back-flip to avoid the ungraceful sword swipe of another orc. The beast didn't even have time to swing his sword back before Legolas leapt forward again, white knife flashing out to split the orc open from neck to chest, then danced out of the way of the following blood spray.

Legolas took the moment to glance back to see the bodyguard of Bolg, now laying in the mud dying, clutching futilely at its eviscerated belly with one arm, its other arm missing from the elbow down. Apparently its opponent had already moved on, lost in the chaos of the battle.

Suddenly a hand seized Legolas' shoulder, making his heart jump. Within a blink of an eye he turned to his attacker, knife at the ready. But it was no orc or goblin and he immediately halted his blade, seeing that it was Valandil, his second eldest brother. Valandil also wore the simple uniform of an archer, unlike their eldest brother and father Thranduil, who both wore armor befitting their status. His blond-haired sibling seemed not to notice how closely he had come to having his throat sliced open just then.

"There you are, little brother! Come! Your skills are wasted here in the valley; we make for the ridge where your bow is most needed!"he shouted over the din of the battle before turning and quickly dispatching another orc.

With a sharp nod Legolas followed his brother as they fought their way out of the valley to the ridge occupied by Gandalf, Thanduil and many of their people. And, unknown to them all at the time, by an invisible, unconscious Hobbit.

As they continued to race for the ridge, killing any warg, goblin or orc that dared get in their way, a small part of him thought of the incident just moments before.

He deeply grieved the loss of Brandor, and though he had not seen who it was Legolas knew it could have been no Man that he had collided with. He remembered the momentary flash of a pair of large, deep brown eyes, wide in surprise. No Man could have shaken off the force of that collision, then have had the strength of arm to simply toss him bodily away one-handed. It could have been a stronger, older Elf— he knew of at least four warriors here who could have done it-- but the hard solid body that had been beneath his in that moment had been like no Elf he had ever felt before. Nor was it foul and cold like that of a goblin.

That left only one choice, and Legolas felt his stomach roll…

Saved by a Naugrim; could this day get any worse!?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Gimli didn't know how much time had passed but continued working his way through the battle, trying to reach the area where he had last seen his father and uncle as well as the rest of Thorin's company. He kept an eye out for them even as his twin axes sang out in deadly arcs and blocks, their crescent blades creating not only a shield but a kill-zone around himself. He had been wearing a borrowed helmet earlier but had lost it soon after the battle had begun (having thrown the heavy cap of iron in a goblin's face). Like his mother before him, Gimli disliked wearing helmets (2.).

He stood out a bit, being one of the only Dwarves on the battlefield without at least some proper armor. Clad only in his ripped trousers, sleeveless faded red shirt and scuffed boots and belt, his three beloved axes were his only real armaments.

Gimli had put as much distance between himself and Gandalf as possible several days earlier, running as fast as he could from the small clearing with Gandalf's angry calls behind him. He had continued on his way to the Mountain, eating the bit of half smoked venison he managed to snatch as he had bolted. Eventually he reached the Mountain later that night, a few hours earlier than Gandalf himself, but unlike the Wizard he was forced to slink around and hide near the outskirts of the Lake Men's camp. Eventually he managed to pinch a bottle of watery ale and some hideously dry and tasteless bread (that he would later learn was cram).

Luckily for him, two sharp-eyed Ravens spotted him. Neither the Men nor the Elves seemed to take notice of the Ravens flying about, not suspecting that they were actually spying on the camps and relaying messages for the Dwarves. With their help, he found a place to safely hide. The two birds, who he found out were brothers, were called Tay and Ray, and both played look-out and kept him apprized of the goings-on of the Mountain and the armies, when they were not telling Gimli bad jokes or complaining about the hard life they were forced to live in Smaug's desolation.

He learned from them that the Ravens, under the leadership of old Roac, were doing everything within their power to help the Dwarves, even though old Roac would not call Thorin's council good. Which did not surprise Gimli, for though he admired certain things about Thorin and gave the imposing Dwarf the respect he was due, he and almost every other Dwarf knew Thorin to be a self-important wind-bag.

Gimli remembered how his mother had had a great dislike for both Thorin and his sister the Lady Dis, and at the mention of Thorin's name she would roll her eyes or snort in derision. But she would visibly bristle and growl if there was mention of the Lady Dis. Though Gimli and his siblings had never been able to pry the reason for this anger and resentment from either their mother or father, they knew whatever the cause, there was very bad blood between their mother and the Lady Dis and her brother Thorin.

As for the Ravens, they had a very good reason to want the Dwarves to come back to the Mountain. For it meant that the Ravens would prosper again, with the staunch alliance and protection of Durin's Folk

The large entrance gates to almost all Dwarf kingdoms led first to a vast hall before reaching a second large entrance gate and it was here in this first hall one usually would find the homes of that Kingdom's Raven population. The walls were honeycombed with niches and hollows for the Ravens' nests, carved into the stone with wonderful flourishes of vines and complex patterns by Dwarven hands. They would not have to fear attacks by crows and magpies here and no chick went hungry-- even abandoned chicks were almost always guaranteed to have a Dwarf take them in and rear them. The glossy-black birds could come and go as they pleased, even into the Mountain itself through the various gates or the large vents and windows. It was not an uncommon sight to see a Raven flying above in the great halls among the stone pillars, or to even see one of the birds perched beside a vendor, a small pouch of coins clutched in one clawed foot as it haggled with the Dwarven merchant over whatever he or she was selling.

Only the surviving Dwarves and birds knew of the brave sacrifice of the Lonely Mountain's Ravens the day when Smaug lay waste to Dale and the armed Dwarves who had come at bells of alarm to aid those in Dale. As Smaug had first burst through the open main gate and into the first large hall, many of the Ravens had flown at the dragon's face, scratching and pecking, trying desperately to blind and distract the terrible beast as the Dwarven warriors on the ground fought to turn back the dragon. The Ravens' mates had tried to get to safety, many with young, barely feathered fledglings clutched in their beaks and feet. But old Smaug had only laughed at their efforts, and even with all their bravery it came to not, for with a great breath the dragon let out a belch of terrible flame, killing all those around him. Both Ravens and Dwarves were set alight to writhe in agony in the horrible heat of the dragon's fire. Many of the surviving Ravens left and followed the Dwarves into exile; only a few Ravens had refused to leave and stayed in the area.

Both the Ravens and Gimli had been greatly surprised when the following night Beorn, in bear-form, suddenly came upon them (having sniffed the young Dwarf out again), and in turn almost getting an axe thrown at him. Thankfully Gimli held onto his temper when the massive were-bear decided that Gimli's spot was a perfect place to wait for the coming battle and simply invited himself to join the exasperated Dwarf. It was not long after being in Beorn's company that both Tay and Ray were of the same mind as Gimli, glaring down at the huge skin-changer from above. Still in bear-form, Beorn had then simply curled up and proceeded to take a nap, and the ensuing earth-shaking snoring was the loudest Gimli had ever heard in his entire life.

What Gimli didn't know at the time, being so preoccupied with trying to take a nap himself with his broad hands clamped over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut, was that Beorn's massive and loud presence had saved him from being discovered by a patrol of Mirkwood Elves that had been scouting the area.They came across his hiding spot so silently that they had not even awoken the two snoozing Ravens perched above in a tree. Having come to investigate the thunderous snoring, they looked into the hollow to see the slumbering mass of a giant bear by an old gnarled tree, but Beorn's sheer bulk blocked their view of the grumbling Dwarf just on the other side of the were-bear. The Elves quickly recognized the huge beast as Beorn and decided to leave him be, slipping silently back the way they had come. For even the fair Wood-Elves of Mirkwood were wary of this crass and ill-tempered being.

It was sometime during the next day that the Ravens directed Gimli towards the coming Dwarf army and Gimli gladly left the still snoring Beorn at the hollow.

When Gimli finally came upon Dain's force they were on a hard march, and as he approached most of the older Dwarves completely ignored him or just glared when he asked to join their force.

_"This be no place for a half-starved pup!" _one heavily scarred and grim looking warrior had yelled at him and another Dwarf knocked Gimli back with his armored shoulder as he walked past. Even though the words and their treatment of him burned as he glared at their retreating backs, Gimli had to admit he did feel like a skinny pup next to these grim, battle hardened warriors. They were all clad in heavy armor, their legs covered in the special hose of flexible metal mesh that the Dwarves of the Iron Hills wear famous for, weapons strapped to their backs or waists. Many of them bore massive heavy packs that would have made Gimli strain and stumble, yet they carried them as if they were nothing but a mere inconvenience.

He had simply stood there fuming as he watched the army continue to march past when an armored and powerfully built Dwarrow-Dam left the column and came up to him. Her armor and the beautifully carved mithril beads braided into her brown beard marked her as one of the King's elite guard, and she bore a large battle-axe strapped to her back and a full length broadsword at her hip. Gimli looked up at her as she came to stand before him, her ruby-red eyes looking him up and down with a critical air. She seemed to tower over him, and Gimli gave an internal gulp and quickly bowed respectfully, making sure to keep his posture submissive in the presence of this powerful Matriarch.

"You know how to use those axes, Lad?" she finally asked in a deep voice, her eyes looking expectantly at him.

"Yes, My Lady. You will find no one better!" Gimli said eagerly, raising his head proudly.

The Dwarrow-Dam only gave a snort at his answer as she looked the ragged young Dwarf over again. His face was dirty, his clothing worn and ragged, and he looked as if he had been sleeping on the ground for weeks and not eating regularly either. His long straight copper colored hair was gathered on the back of his head in a thick ponytail, except for two long thick forelocks that fell before his ears, but the young Dwarf's large almond-shaped eyes spoke of a strong soul and experiences tempered with loss and pain. They looked far older than they should have for one so young. It was clear to her that this young one was more than what he appeared; the confidence in the way he stood spoke of an ability to back up any claims he might make.

The shadow cast by her helmet denied Gimli a clear view of her face, but he could see a smile tugging at her plump lips. "We'll have to see about that. You're a bit young… But we'll need all the able bodies we can get. Now go back down the line and join the rest of the tag-alongs and Wanderers," she said, jabbing a thumb behind her towards the back of the column.

A grateful grin broke out over Gimli's face and he immediately gave her a deep bow, the end of his ponytail actually touching the dusty ground.

"My thanks, my Lady!" he said and immediately began to jog down the line.

"Oy!" Hearing the call, Gimli stopped and looked back at the warrior still standing there.

"I'd better see you alive after that battle, boy. Don't disappoint me!" she ordered, giving him a wink before turning and continuing on, bellowing out orders. Gimli watched her go, giving a blink as he thought about her words before moving once again down the column.

Like all Dwarven armies, a certain portion was usually made up of Dwarves that were not 'officially' part of the army, but capable and willing to go to battle. These Dwarves usually marched behind the main contingent. Word had spread like lighting of the death of Smaug and of Thorin taking back the Mountain, and many Dwarves in the Iron Hills and the near vicinity had quickly scrambled to join Dain's march to Erebor. It was with this group that Gimli had fallen in, marching out of step to the battle behind Dain's main force.

One of the older Dwarves, a round-faced fellow who called himself Litr, managed to find an extra helmet and shoved it on Gimli's head as they prepared to come beneath the Mountain's arm.

"It ain't much--but at least it be something!" said the friendly brown-haired Dwarf with a shrug as he marched next to him. Gimli had given the Dwarf his thanks even though he wished that the Dwarf hadn't bothered— he didn't need it and he didn't like wearing helmets, but he kept silent.

Gimli noticed that like many of those around him, Litr was clearly one of the 'Wandering folk' like him. He could tell by the Dwarf's simple working clothes, with only a plain and dented breastplate, forearm guards and cap of iron in the way of armor. Looking at him, one would think that he was a simple peasant off to play war, but Gimli had been taught from an early age to never judge someone by appearances. _Looks can be deceiving, _his mother used to say. For Gimli could see that for all his apparently scavenged armor, Litr held a heavy and wonderfully decorated battleaxe casually over one broad shoulder, gripping it with practiced ease and sureness. It was clear he knew how to skillfully use this weapon.

Gimli watched an armored Dwarf gallop past on a thick-necked and dappled gray mountain pony, down the column on some important errand with a Raven keeping easy pace as it flew next to him. The pony's heavy shod feet kicked up dust and dirt as they rushed past, and Gimli wondered at their haste.

Mountain or Dwarf ponies were a common mode of transportation for Dwarves, and they also helped to carry and pull loads in the mountains. They usually had long shaggy manes and tails as well as feathering around their hooves. They were strong, sturdy and powerfully built animals, and while they were a breed of pony they were in actuality not that much smaller than a regular horse. For while a small, round- bellied and stubby-legged pony was the perfect mount for a small child or Hobbit, they were utterly useless to Dwarves, except maybe as an emergency supply of meat. The average Dwarf usually weighs as much, if not more than the average Man, and Dwarves needed animals that could take the already heavy weight of a large muscular Dwarf, combined with armor and heavy weapons and still be able to gallop without problems or strain. In a way the mountain ponies were very much like the Dwarves that rode upon them, as one Elf had noted many hundred years before while he and several others had watched the comings and goings of the Dwarves, from the then thriving Khazad-dum.

Gimli didn't have long to contemplate this though, for as Dain and the main force of the army up front prepared to clash with the combined armies of Lake Men and Wood-Elves, everything came to a screeching halt. And though Gimli could not see him, he instantly recognized Gandalf's booming voice, unconsciously ducking his head a bit as he remembered the last time he had seen the Wizard. He knew that Gandalf would have a piece of his hide when he saw him next. _If he doesn't turn you into something horrible that is, like a snail or a frog! _he snorted to himself as he watched the sky become dark. It was not long after that that all of Mordor broke loose and Gandalf's anger became one of the least of his worries.

At the moment he found himself in the familiar thrill of battle, a special thrill in knowing that he now fought under King Dain's banner. All of the Dwarves, Men and Elves, after their leaders had gotten together with Gandalf to asses the coming battle, now found themselves allies, fighting as one against the evil masses. With battle cries and chants from all sides they had charged down into the valley to attack the incoming forces of wargs, goblins and orcs.

But valiantly battle as they might, the dark forces just kept coming. It was not long before their combined forces found themselves being pushed back to the ridges, but like many Gimli was determined to fight on, no matter what the cost. But his heart leapt in his chest at the sudden sound of a trumpet call and everyone watched in surprise as the wall to the Mountain's gate came crumbling down.

Thorin! Gimli had almost completely forgotten about them and he watched with held breath as Thorin burst forth. Shining gold in the light and clad in glorious armor, the great Dwarf's eyes blazed as he held his axe aloft. Behind him the rest of the small company charged out, narrowly avoiding the rocks and boulders thrown down on them from the goblins above.

_"_Da! Uncle Oin!" Gimli involuntarily cried out, his voice lost in the thunder of battle around him.

"To me! To me! Elves and Men! To me! O my kinsfolk!" Thorin cried, his voice seeming to shake the valley. And like many other Dwarves, Gimli rushed to Thorin's calls, heedless of the thunderous orders of Dain to hold. Both Thranduil and Bard were also unable to hold back their Men and Elves that raced down the valley to join the battle anew. The copper-haired Dwarf had rejoiced inside, knowing that his father and uncle and the rest of them would need all the help they could get.

But since the fighting had taken a turn for the worse, Gimli had not been able to catch sight of his father or any of the others. Even then he didn't stop looking as he tore a swath through the goblin ranks.

Gimli slammed a kick into an orc's stomach, knocking it back before turning his attention to a large and filthy furred warg. Its rider was nowhere in sight as the beast lunged at him, its whole head stained red by its previous victims. Gimli let the large animal come to him, catching it in the shoulder with his left axe, before finishing it off with a blow to the neck. He then spun around to deal with his next opponent, a tall broad orc with a spiked club, but there was a sudden strong gust of wind and the great beat of wings from above.

Instinctively Gimli ducked, and the orc in front of him gave a horrible shriek when one of the Eagles swooped down and seized the foul creature in its powerful talons. Gimli watched in momentary awe as the great bird carried the screaming and flailing body high into the air, before simply dropping it onto the rocks below. The Eagle swooped down again to snatch up another victim, a howling warg this time.

It was then another spindly goblin came shrieking at him with a saw-blade scimitar. He easily blocked its strike and with a challenging yell of his own he lopped its head clean off, watching with satisfaction the sudden geyser of black blood. The goblin's hands came up to claw spastically at the space where its head had been moments before, then it finally fell to join the rest of the bodies littering ground.

Gimli noticed that unfortunately there were not just the bodies of the orcs and goblins, but of Men, Elves and Dwarves as well. Finding himself in a momentary pocket of space in the fighting, he caught sight of a tall spindly goblin standing over a downed Elf, not far away to his left. The wounded Elf's head thrashed from side to side as its body bucked and arched, its long legs kicking uselessly in the red mud as it gasped and cried out. Crimson blood covered its pale, long fingered hands as they tried to grip the blade stabbing into its abdomen. The goblin's ugly long-nosed face sneered in glee at the poor Elf's pain, spittle dribbling from its pointy chin, purposefully dragging out the Elf's agony as it twisted and leaned its weight onto the rusted black sword.

As much as Gimli disliked Elves, he hated goblins and the rest of their foul kind with an all- consuming hate. The pain they had caused him during his life could never be fully quenched until every one of their kind was exterminated from all of Arda, and seeing what this beast was doing fired Gimli's hate all the more. No one deserved such cruelty!

_So you like to cause pain, huh? How about some of your own medicine!? _Gimli growled to himself, his white teeth bared in a fierce snarl as he charged forward. The goblin looked up at the last moment to see a Dwarf bearing down on it, and ripped its sword from the Elf's body. Its previous glee of just moments before had vanished, the Elf now laying utterly forgotten. As it raised its blade for a block, one of Gimli's axes easily lopped off the Goblin's arm, and both sword and arm fell to the mud. The goblin didn't even had time to take a full breath to scream, when Gimli sank the blade of his other axe into the creature's lower belly. The beast saw no mercy in the pair of narrowed almond-shaped eyes that glared into its own, burning with a frightening fire of vengeance and hate.

"Look upon me well, creature. For this day, I am your death!" Gimli growled, not taking his piercing gaze from the bulbous yellow eyes. Then with a sudden jerk, he pulled up the blade of his axe, splitting the creature from belly to breast bone, effectively gutting it before kicking the goblin away from him. It would be a terribly slow and agonizing death, but Gimli felt no sympathy, ignoring its screams of agony as it writhed in the mud.

Giving a quick look around for any approaching enemies and seeing that he had a few moments, he walked to the panting and trembling form of the Elf. The lithe being lay prone in the mud, clutching weakly at its damaged abdomen, deathly pale and covered in its own crimson blood from its previous injuries as well as the torture inflicted on it by the goblin. Gimli was no healer, but even he knew that there was no hope for this fair being, and a look into the Elf's eyes showed him that the Elf knew the same. Still keeping a wary eye out, Gimli knelt by the Elf's side, laying a hand on the shaking shoulder. Even through its obvious pain, the Elf seemed to be greatly surprised by this small gesture of comfort, as if it were the last thing it had expected from a Dwarf.

"I am sorry… But I can only offer you an end to your suffering," Gimli said looking down at the Elf with deep brown eyes now filled with compassion. It was the only thing he could give, aside from the retribution he had inflicted on the Elf's attacker.

"P-pl-Please," came a piteous whisper after a long moment, that Gimli could just barely hear.

Gimli gave the fallen Elf a small nod and with a deep breath he stood up again, feeling the Elf's gray eyes upon him. He steeled his heart, and with a steady hand he lifted 'Star Smasher' up and as the Elf's eyes softly closed, down his axe went.

'Thunk'

Gimli made sure that it was instantaneous, giving the Elf the only kindness that could be given, but his stomach still clenched at the sight of the crimson stain on his axe. His axes had been covered in red blood too many times of late when they should be dripping in black. Past pain threatened to overwhelm him before he resolutely shoved it back. _Now was not the time_! But the final look he had read in those luminous and pain-filled eyes before they had closed had been one of gratitude. For some reason that stung his heart more than he could ever understand.

With a mental shake he turned again to the battle at hand, moving back into the main fighting and leaving the body of the Elf and the still writhing ggoblin behind.

Back in the thick of it, he was dispatching a goblin when he heard a loud scream and felt a sudden hot splash as he was splattered in gore from some unfortunate, but he didn't have time to see who it was, being busy with his own problems. A scimitar- wielding goblin had managed to land a lucky strike on him, slicing a cut across part of his upper chest. Luckily it did nothing to hinder him, though it stung and bled, not to mention adding another rip to his already ruined red shirt. The goblin traded a few more blows before Gimli caught it in the side followed by a deathblow with the handle of one of his axes to its temple. He battled on, still looking out for his father or any of the others of his father's company.

A short time later, Gimli took the opportunity of a large mottled- skinned orc's distraction and threw one of his axes, watching in satisfaction as it lodged deeply in the creature's chest. The force knocked the orc back and made it drop its weapon, but instead of falling backwards, the orc tilted forward at the last minute to crash to the muddy ground with a splat.

"_Shit!" _he cursed to himself as he watched the huge beast land on its face, effectively burying his axe under it. Gimli told himself he would be back to collect the weapon, quickly marking his location on the battlefield before being forced to move on.

Finding himself beset again by an attacker, he blocked with his remaining axe before simply punching the orc in the face with his free hand with all his might. The sheer force of it collapsed the orc's cheekbone and eye socket under his thick knuckles, not only knocking the orc out, but throwing it back a few feet.

Unfortunately Gimli suddenly found himself in the midst of some of Bolg's huge bodyguards. Luckily two of the massive beasts seem to have their attention focused on something the bigger of the two was holding as they talked and laughed amongst themselves. Gimli couldn't help the smirk that came to his face as he decided to take advantage of the clearly stupid creatures' distraction. _Fools! Didn't they know not to turn their attention away from a battle, when there were dangers about?_

He came up behind the smaller of the two massive Goblins. Strangely enough, although it wore heavy armor, its back was utterly unprotected— not that Gimli could really say anything as he wasn't wearing a scrap of armor himself. With a powerful and carefully aimed strike of his axe, he slammed his weapon through its thick spine and severed its spinal cord.

He felt a burst of satisfaction he watched the massive body crash to the ground-- he had seen how much damage these huge Goblins had been inflicting on the combined forces. The other massive goblin gave an angry bellow, crying out what must have been the other creature's name, and as it turned Gimli saw that it clutched a struggling black-haired Elf in one of its massive fists. Then the huge creature whipped back its arm and unthinkingly hurled the Elf at him.

Gimli watched in disbelief as the Elf came flying at him, catching just a momentary flash of wide green eyes. He didn't have time to dodge out of the way before the impact hit him and he let out a loud 'Oughf!', and down they both went in a tangle of limbs.

Gimli lay there for a moment in the mud, dazed, just staring up at the dark stormy sky above, his mind reeling. "_I can't believe it. It threw a damned Elf at me! What's next, Hobbits?" _he snorted to himself, feeling the Elf's surprisingly light weight still draped over him.

With a mental groan Gimli managed to sit up in time to see that same massive goblin charging, its wicked scimitar upraised. He realized with a rush of adrenalin that he had but a moment to act, and he yelled, "Get off me!" to the Elf that was still sprawled over him. The groggy Elf struggled to get up, but not quickly enough and Gimli was left with no choice.

He grabbed the Elf by its muddy hair and bodily flung the lithe creature away from him, surprised again at how little the Elf weighed, before quickly rolling to his feet in the opposite direction. A part of him gave an internal wince at the cry of pain he heard, but he figured that it was better to have a moment of pain and maybe a few less hairs on your head than being dead!

His thoughts proved true for not a moment later the goblin's massive steel scimitar smashed down where he and the Elf had been sprawled just moments before. The beast gave a bellow of rage at their escape, spittle flying from its gaping maw, then it ripped its blade out of the muck and turned to the young Dwarf, blocking his view of the Elf. Seeing the sheer size of this monster Gimli quickly decided that this was a job for a bigger weapon than his one-sided axe. With practiced ease he shoved 'Fire Ripper' back into its holster at his side while he reached behind him with his other arm and deftly brought 'Blood Screamer' to bear within a blink of an eye.

Gimli nimbly ducked a swipe of the goblin's big blade, then dodged a crushing downward chop that sent mud flying, causing the goblin to give another bellow of rage at his easy escape. The creature lunged forward and took a one-handed swipe at him, but Gimli simply side-stepped it then used the goblin's momentum to his advantage and got in close, past the goblin's defenses. With a powerful two -handed strike, he opened up the goblin's bulging belly, the rusty armor and mail offering no defense against his heavy battleaxe's wicked blade. Gimli leapt back as the huge beast gave a roar of pain, stumbling back to clutch at its eviscerated abdomen, trying futilely to keep the mass of black slicked intestines from spilling to the ground. The beast gave another howl when the Dwarf then took advantage of its distraction and managed to lop off its arm still holding the scimitar.

Gimli wasn't even able to watch the giant goblin topple to the ground before he was beset by more attackers, and without missing a beat he fell back into the deadly rhythm of his dance. While he might not move with the lithe grace of the Elves, he had a grace all his own.

'Blood Screamer' lived up to its famous name as it shrieked through the air, and no goblin, warg or orc could stand against its frightening song. Unknown to Gimli at the time, its eerie song caused more than one Dwarven warrior to look momentarily up or turn in recognition at the sound of the legendary axe. _Could it be? Had the ghost of Nei Burkdis come back from the dead to do battle once more? _A few even thought they saw a brief glimpse of her spirit moving through the battle. _Surely it could not be…_

There was a terrible cry from above and Gimli looked up to see the sad sight of one of the great Eagles plummeting to the ground, its mighty breast pierced by black poisoned arrows. He then had to turn his attention back to the battle as another death cry sounded from somewhere nearby in the clamor of swords smashing against shields, axes against scimitars and the din of war cries against the shrieking and cursing of the goblins. Gimli did not know how long he had been fighting or how many he had killed, but he continued on. Like everyone else, he had to continue on if there was any hope of victory.

And the battle raged on…

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was finally over; the long fierce battle had been won. The four armies of Elves, Dwarves, Men and Eagles had triumphed over the goblin hoard. The dark malevolent clouds and the swarms of evil bats had disappeared and once again the sky above was blue and clear. The Battle of Five Armies would become the stuff of legends; tales of bravery and amazing feats would be told and sung for generations to come.

But all victories come with a price and this one was no different. For in the valley below lay the sad sight of many noble Dwarves, fair Elves and brave Men laying broken upon the blood soaked ground, together with those of goblins, orcs and wargs. The shouts of victory were over, now only the crows cackled with glee as they feasted, the harsh sound mingling with the moans of the dying and the cries of the grieving.

Now came the somber task of trying to help the wounded, of finding lost comrades and comforting the dying. The various healers of Elves, Dwarves and Men alike moved through the seemingly endless bodies in the valley. They offered whatever help they could, be it to load the wounded that could be saved onto stretchers to be carried off to one of the healing tents or to mercifully end another's suffering.

Some of the Dwarves of Dain's army were hard at work removing the wall, while Men began the task of digging deep pits to dispose of the orc and goblin carcasses. Elven warriors searched the surrounding ridges amongst the rocks, looking for any surviving goblin attempting to hide.

On a rounded hill, near the gates of the Mountain, six Dwarves stood silently in the chill air, with bent heads and slumped shoulders, taking no notice of the cloudless sky above. Their search for at least two of their missing company was now over.

"Where is Thorin?" Bofur asked. He was leaning heavily against his cousin Bombur, needing his help to stand thanks to a leg injury.

"He lays near death in a tent in Dale." Dwalin answered, weariness and sorrow evident in his angular bloodstained face.

_Thorin can rot, for all I care!_" Gloin thought to himself. It was quiet again as they stood there, all of them filthy with mud and blood, all horribly tired and wrung out. Now only one of their party was unaccounted for-- their missing burglar. Gloin hoped he was not also laying dead somewhere.

"Someone must tell him of this," Bombur said with a sniff, his light brown eyes full of unshed tears.

With a heavy heart Gloin looked down at the two bodies laying at his feet, and Oin at his side also gazed sadly on the heartbreaking sight as he clutched his injured shoulder.

Kili and Fili lay together, broken and cold upon the muddy and blood soaked ground, both cut cruelly down while defending the fallen body of Thorin. They were clad in princely armor of flashing mail, now dirty and stained red, but their helmets and weapons were nowhere to be found.

Fili had clearly been killed outright, his slate-gray eyes staring unfocused and half-lidded at the sky above them. There was a horrible gaping wound in his chest, his strong heart rammed through by a spear. Kili, also mortally wounded, had apparently lived long enough to somehow drag himself to his sibling's side. He lay curled next to his twin, his fair head resting upon Fili's still breast, his eyes forever closed. Kili had even laced his fingers with those of his brother's, both their long golden hair blood- stained and unbraided.

Gloin felt a deep wave of anger as he looked at them lying there. _How dare Thorin take these two on such a quest! How dare that cold bitch Dis allow her windbag of a brother to take her only children on this suicide mission!? _he thought to himself, one of his broad hands clenching into a white- knuckled fist.

"'Tis not right, they had not even reached their prime," Bifur sadly whispered from where she stood with Bofur and Bombur. A single tear ran down her dirty face, which was badly bruised from having taken a glancing blow from a goblin's mace.

The blue-haired Dwalin finally stepped forward to kneel down next to the bodies. Gloin watched as the older Dwarf reached out with a blood- stained hand and gently closed Fili's staring eyes, unintentionally painting two red marks over Fili's eyelids and partly down his pale face.

"Go now, young ones… You have both proven yourselves and died with honor. Go and be at peace," the older Dwarf said in his hoarse voice.

"May Mahal and your honorable ancestors welcome both of you around the great hearth," Oin quietly added, as he and the others bowed their heads.

Gloin finally turned away then, unable to stand the sight any longer, his thoughts conflicted as he angrily tried to suppress the tears stinging his eyes. A small bitter part of him wanted to snap at his brother that at least Dis's sons had seen more life than all of his children! But he truly mourned for the loss of Fili and Kili; the light-hearted twins had proven themselves many times over during their harrowing quest. They had always kept their good humor, eagerly helping and rolling with whatever was thrown at them.

Had it all, truly, been worth it?

How easily it could be Gimli laying there broken at their feet. A chill ran up Gloin's spine as he looked out into the valley strewn with bodies. He missed his son terribly and hoped that he was well and in good spirits back at Black Hollow. How lucky he was compared to many here; at least he knew that his son was safe.

Or at least that's what he kept telling himself, unable to shake the strange dread that had crept over him about a month after he had left the Blue Mountains…

Sorry about the long wait! RL has really been kicking my butt lately. Next chapter is in the works!

As you probably noticed, I'm also a Raven fan. Yet there is so little about them in "The Hobbit" and the other books. So I've added my own ideas here again.

Yes, lots of depressing stuff in this chapter. I wanted to show the ugly side of war, it's not pretty and the price is usually high. Make love, not war!

Peace, love and naked Elves !

(1.) Burkdis Axe Goddess

(2.) Contrary to Peter Jackson's movies and much of the fandom, it's a canon fact, Gimli did not wear a helmet! The only time he did was when he picked up a cap of iron from King Theoden's hoard, as well as a small shield, before the battle of Helms Deep. But even then he loses both pretty quickly and we don't read in any other part of the trilogy of him wearing a helmet.


	13. Lost amongst the Dead

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 10)

Author: Ro

Rating: R (for disturbing imagery and gore)

Warnings: Major horror, gore, angst

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few of the original characters, Gimli and all the other characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli in the year while he and Thorin's company were away on their Quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is Book-version, not the Movie version.

More notes: **Big 'thank you' to my lovely Beta-reader Little My! glomp I don't know what I would do without her!**

/" "/ means someone is speaking in 'Raven"

/" "/ Means someone is speaking in 'Sindarin'

Sorry about the long wait! Anyway, thank you to everyone for the kind reviews and comments bows! Thank you, they have really helped motivate me to continue on with this fic.

This chapter is dedicated to veterans everywhere.

_

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"Lost amongst the Dead"

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_

A gangly Goblin weakly hissed from where it lay curled and shivering in a pool of its own blood and filth. It glared up at the stony being that had come to stand over it, blocking its view of the brilliant blue sky above and drawing its gaze to the black- splattered weapon held in the being's broad hand.

The snow-haired Dwarf brought the heavy war hammer down on the goblin's head with a powerful strike, collapsing its skull with the loud wet sound of a smashed pumpkin and killing it instantly. The creature's gangly limbs jerked sporadically for a moment before stopping altogether. Then, without a word, the old Dwarf stepped away and continued on his search for survivors, shoving the black-stained war hammer back in its holster at his side. He had given the dying goblin more mercy than if their roles had been reversed. The Dwarf's fathomless dark eyes searched meticulously over the various sprawled and crumpled corpses as he made his slow way through the bloody aftermath of The Battle of Five Armies.

The desolate, body strewn landscape stretched out around him as the heavy tread of his boots echoed loudly through hush. The proud Mountain and the surrounding ridges seemed to silently stand guard over those in the valley below. A heavy silence filled the air now that the deafening roar of battle was over, as if the very earth was afraid of breathing too loudly. Only the piercing cries of anguish and the moans of the dying could be heard. A chill breeze tugged every now and then on loose hair and the broken flags of those lying unmoving in the mud.

The spiked war hammer at the Dwarf's side was for any goblin or other evil creature he might find and put out of their misery. His deep green hood, with its embroidered silver trim and the thick silver ring attached to the tassel, told all that he was a healer. On his back was a leather traveling pack of extra supplies and his own things, a quiver that still carried some thick armor piercing bolts, and a very large and heavy long bow. Though an uncommon weapon for most Dwarves to take into battle, he was highly skilled with it.

While most could never hope to achieve the level of finesse and marksmanship of the Wood-elves, many Dwarves were surprisingly proficient enough in the use of bows to hunt with them. For like it or not, there was just no better weapon to use when one was trying to put meat on the table— not many animals are willing to stand still long enough to be cut down with an axe or sword(1.).

This large bow in particular was unlike the elegant and deadly instruments used by the farseeing Elves or the usual bows used by both Men and Dwarves for hunting or fighting. It was made exclusively to be an ugly, long distance weapon of mass destruction, and the strength required to pull the string was staggering. The lethal missiles were designed to fly over long distances and punch through almost anything with terrifying ease-- bone, shields or the thickest armor were no defense against the unforgiving harpoons. The weapon even had blades on either end of it in case he suddenly found himself in close-quarter combat (which was very rare).

During the battle he had stood with the other archers on the surrounding ridges, raining death upon the Goblins and Orcs in the valley. His massive bow, along with the bows of several exceptionally talented Mirkwood archers, had proved instrumental in taking out most of the massive armored Goblins of Bolg's bodyguard that had been inflicting such damage on their combined forces.

On his other hip was a flask made from the hollowed talon of a long dead cold-drake, carved and inlayed with worked silver of intricate and interlaced knot designs. The beautiful flask held a very powerful and deadly poison made only by the mysterious traveling bands of Dark Elves.

It was a closely guarded secret, unknown to many Elves and Dwarves, that the rare and ever illusive Avari had a flourishing trade alliance with the small hidden settlements of StoneFoot clans of the White Mountains. The Avari traded food, poison, and beautifully tooled wood and leather goods for the Dwarves' finely wrought weapons, armor and tools, as well as for the repair of damaged weapons and armor.

This rare poison was for any poor Dwarf, Elf or Man who was beyond his help, except to put an end to their suffering. Even Dwarves and Elves, who had a natural immunity to most poisons, had no immunity to this deadly brew. Only a drop or two upon the lips was all that was needed for the fast acting poison to take effect. It could also be dripped onto open wounds and still be just as effective, or mixed with spring water that would slake any being's last desperate thirst before they were suddenly taken by a wave of euphoria as the poison began to destroy their brain's pain center. No matter how severe, all pain would stop as if by magic. Their last moments would be completely peaceful, free of all pain as the powerful poison raced through their system, shutting their body down.

Vestri would respectfully wait for them to pass, sometimes holding their hand if they wished or simply keeping a comforting hand upon the dying being's brow or shoulder, letting them know that they were not alone. He even carried an extra pipe and some good Hobbit-grown weed from the Shire if any wished for a good smoke before the end. He did not care if that being was male or female, Dwarf, Elf, Man or Eagle; he was a healer before he was anything else.

Most Dwarven healers however didn't have this deadly poison in their supplies, unlike this Dwarf who had grown up in one of the small hidden colonies in the White Mountains. Instead, they usually just used their strong hands to quickly snap the neck of those that could not be saved and end their pain.

As for Vestri, Son of Vert himself, he was a very old Dwarf, considered ancient even by his long- lived race, for he was over three hundred and twenty-eight years old (2.). His thick mane of snow-white hair was so long that even braided the thick rope of it touched the ground, which was why Vestri doubled the braid up, attaching the end of it to the start of his braid with a strip of leather. His snowy beard was also immensely long, hanging down to mid-thigh. Luckily a Dwarf's beard takes a lot longer to grow than the rest of their hair, so he did not have to worry about tripping on it. He kept his silky beard neatly plaited and tucked into his thick belt that was full of compartments and pouches for his various herbs, minerals, bandages, needles and thread, as well as anything else he may need.

Vestri was an unusual Dwarf and could consider himself very fortunate. For when a Dwarf's hair begins to turn white it is usually a harbinger of his impending death, often within the next ten years. It is only during these final years that they begin to noticeably age and wrinkle, their strength and stamina slowly ebbing away.

Unlike Men and Hobbits, after they reach maturity most Dwarves, with the exception of hair growth, hardly change in appearance. A Dwarf of two hundred and thirty will look much the same as he did when he turned seventy. However it was not uncommon for a Dwarf's hair to go prematurely white even when relatively young, as a result of some terrible grief or tragedy in their life.

This however was not the case with Vestri. His hair had turned white fifteen winters past and he knew that he did not have much longer-- he could feel it in his aching joints-- but he refused to sit idle when he was still fit enough to be of some use and his skills were needed.

He knew though, deep in his bones, that this was his final battle as well as his final journey. But it was worth it, if nothing else to see the Lonely Mountain rightfully taken back. He had seen much in his long life and travels, had been a part of more than his fair share of battles, including the long and grueling seven- year War of Dwarves and Orcs. He had never married and had outlived all his relatives, including a younger brother. He did however have many apprentices and students that he had taught everything he knew — they would continue his legacy, in both healing as well as the bow.

At the moment Vestri found himself kneeling by the side of a moaning young Man of the Lake, no more than a teenager, partially pinned under the heavy corpse of a less fortunate Man. While the Eagles, Dwarves and Elves had lost many this day (with the exception of the defeated goblins and orcs), the Men of the Lake had clearly taken the most losses. Luckily their kind seemed to breed like rabbits compared to Elves and Dwarves, Vestri snorted to himself.

The dark-haired teen was badly injured, but Vestri's trained eyes quickly told him that the young one could be saved, though he would no doubt be disfigured and walk with a limp. After pushing the heavy body of the decapitated Man off the lad, Vestri gently checked him for broken bones before removing the teen's long leather jerkin and chain mail shirt, and cutting away the bloody under tunic with his knife. After quickly assessing the damage, he went about bandaging the worst of the wounds. While preparing the teen to be moved he gave a long high whistle, calling one of the many Ravens to him, not once looking away from his work.

The injured young Man was delirious from pain and blood loss and was weakly struggling to sit up while he reached clumsily out for the Dwarf.

"Gr-grandfather…Grandfather! You've come back…," he cried in a hoarse voice, smiling vacantly and staring at the white-haired Dwarf with glassy delirious eyes.

"Easy, young one," the old Dwarf said, his voice deep and comforting. He took a moment to look into the teen's pale face as he gently caught one of the lad's reaching hands. Giving it a paternal pat, he smiled comfortingly at the young Human, then laid one broad and calming hand on the young Man's fevered brow. This seemed to work and the teen finally stilled, but continued to mumble incoherently to himself.

"Grandfather…father… everyone will…will be so…so…happy…"

At the sound of flapping wings, Vestri looked up and saw a young Raven land on the ground next to him.

"/Found another live one/" she asked, looking up at the old Dwarf with intelligent obsidian eyes before turning and cocking her head at the wounded human.

"Aye, that I have," Vestri nodded, turning his eyes back to his task. "Now I need a stretcher right away. Take this one to the blue healing tent and let one of the healers there know that this one's been jabbed by a poisoned blade--looks like the typical sludge the orcs of the Misty Mountains use." He took a moment to run an assessing eye over some of the less critical wounds on the boy, paying particular attention to the traces of a viscous brown substance in and around some of the wounds before continuing.

"Make sure to let one of the Mirkwood healers know-- they have a special cream and leaf wraps that will nullify the toxins and clean his blood of infection. If they are too busy tell one of my fellow Kazad(3.) healers to pack his wounds with ground red-bush root and give the lad some sleeping draught until one of the Elves can find time to address his wounds," he instructed the Raven as he finally finished binding a nasty gash on the young Man's side.

There were several large tents set up for the wounded in the ruins of Dale, most of the refugees from Lake Town were in temporary shelters on the shores of Long Lake, just ashore from the ruined town. The large tent that had a simple blue standard flying from the top was for those whose needs were critical, the tan and green colored standard tents were for the less seriously wounded.

"/Right away/" the Raven cawed and with a flap she was in the air, heading back to relay his instructions. Ravens have excellent memories and could quickly direct the people below with the stretchers to where an injured being lay. The Dwarven healers had taken full advantage of this, allowing them to quickly move on and help others. Even a few of the Elven and Human healers had quickly picked up on this as well and copied the shrill whistle they heard the Dwarven healers using to call the dark birds. Though they could not understand the Ravens' language they trusted the large birds to follow their instructions and so far there had been no problems, for all the Ravens of the Lonely Mountain could understand the common tongue, though not all could speak it.

Vestri made sure the young Man was resting comfortably before slowly standing up again with a low groan, his back giving a few audible pops. _I'm getting too damn old for this, _he thought crankily to himself as he rubbed his lower back. He moved on, stopping every now and then at a particular body, checking to make sure they were truly dead. After inspecting the body of an Elf, missing a leg and a hand and unfortunately having bleed to death before help could arrive, Vestri had just gently closed her dull eyes when he heard a flap of wings and felt a familiar weight alight on his shoulder.

He pushed back his green hood and turned his head to look at the old female Raven now perched on his left shoulder. Her once sleek black feathers were dusted with gray, showing her advanced age, and around her neck she proudly wore a delicate silver chain with a carved opal bead that she had picked out herself.

Her name was Rin and she was his most beloved companion, friend, and confidant. He had rescued her when she was young from a murder of crows that were bent on killing her. She had been badly bleeding and one of her glossy wings had been broken during her desperate struggles with the malicious smaller birds. After chasing off her tormenters, he had taken her in and mended her wounds and in turn earned himself a life-long companion. She watched his back, acted as his look-out, and during battles she was his farseeing eyes, directing him where to aim his heavy bow and fire at their enemies. Only the Wood-elves could claim to have better aim than Vestri and Rin's combined skill. Now after the battle her sharp eyes helped him find survivors amongst the dead.

"Vestri! Come! Look what I found," she said, after lovingly tucking a loose lock of his white hair behind his ear with her smooth beak. Unlike many of the Ravens here, Rin could speak common fluently, though her high voice sounded a bit harsh and clipped to those that didn't know her.

"Well then, let's see what your sharp eyes have found," he said, following her directions and keeping his eyes out for other survivors as he went.

"See, this one lives still!" she cawed, when they had finally reached their destination not far away. She hopped off his shoulder with a flap and alighted on the end of an Elven spear that had been driven through the body of a filthy brown furred warg and into the muddy ground beneath.

"So I see. Good work, my dear," he praised her, taking a closer look at the dirty and crumpled form at his feet, surrounded by the bodies of less fortunate beings.

What he saw was the mud and blood- stained body of a young Dwarf, who could be no more than sixty five at the most, sprawled on his stomach. Clutched in one of his broad hands was a magnificent double-bladed battleaxe, a single- bladed axe still holstered at the young one's side. The only thing that set his body apart from those around him was the steady rise and fall of his chest. Vestri and Lady Rin could not see the young Dwarf's face, but they both took note of the dirty, yet still striking mane of dark copper-colored hair.

With a wince and a rumbling groan the old healer lowered himself down to squat next to the body before carefully reaching out to gently turn the unconscious Dwarf over…

----------------------

Amaras had just returned with one of the last patrols that had been sent out to scour the ridges around the Mountain for any remaining goblins or orcs. He was a rather tall Elf by Silvan standards, and struck a striking and elegant figure with his pale glowing skin and his long dark hair that he had braided back with the delicate tendril of a green fern. Unfortunately his sharp- featured face always seemed to have an irritated look about it. "_To match his sour disposition!_" his fellows would whisper to one another on patrols. _"That or he has a bunch of sour grapes stuck up his rear end!" _they would add with a snicker.

At the moment he was exhausted as he and the warriors of his patrol walked back towards the Mirkwood army's encampment. His slender arms ached from the near constant firing of his bow and swinging his short sword during the long battle, but he felt strangely restless. The thought of relaxing with his equally tired fellows under one of the airy green tents back at camp did not appeal to him as he glared at the desolate and rocky landscape of the dragon's desolation around them. Behind him, two of his five companions were snickering over a joke, but the others were too tired to even listen.

/"And the Naug tells her… That wasn't a monster, that was my ugly face!"/ Carnesir told the darker-haired Elerosse before both Elves dissolved into peals of silvery laughter.

/"Oh! Oh, I have one better!"/ Elerosse giggled excitedly, before launching off into another joke. /"How do a group of Naugrim and a group of wargs eat--"/ But Amaras had heard enough, and blocked out the sound of their voices behind him. He had always found those two extremely annoying- both were fast with a bow, but both were even faster with their mouths. It seemed to Amaras that their tongues flapped nonstop, no matter how inappropriate the time, be it on patrol, guard duty or now as the group skirted around the carnage in the valley.

They had almost made it to camp when he heard someone call for him, and looking up he smiled as he saw who it was. Standing in a small group not far away was Prince Valandil, who was a close friend. Looking closer however he felt an immediate frown pull at his lips when he saw Valandil's youngest brother standing beside him.

The tall blond archer waved them over, and as Amaras finally reached the other group he could see that aside from Valandil and Legolas, there were three other Elves there, all of them clad in the green and brown garb of Mirkwood archers. One of the three Elves was clearly injured as he hung limply between the other two.

As Amaras approached he made a point of glaring at the lithe green-eyed Prince next to his taller blond brother. Legolas- beautiful, perfect and coddled Legolas, the shining apple of King Thranduil's eye. How he despised him!

It was with a twinge of pleasure that he saw that the slender Elf's long hair and clothes were liberally caked in mud and blood, his delicate pale face filthy with a few fading bruises marring one high cheekbone. Amaras also noticed that the smaller Elf seemed to be favoring one leg, his luminous emerald eyes troubled but focused. The others of Valandil's group where also covered in mud and less savory things, all clearly as exhausted as Amaras' weary patrol.

Legolas meanwhile was perfectly aware of Amaras' feelings and made no attempt at conciliation, matching the taller Elf's glare with a cool gaze of his own. He might not try to rub Amaras' straight nose in his higher position, but that also didn't mean he would budge an inch either. As long as the tall brown-haired Elf did what he was told and didn't insult him out loud, Legolas could care less what Amaras thought of him.

The fact was that Thranduil's youngest had more than earned his place, starting from the bottom and climbing up the ranks on his own. They were both group leaders, but Legolas had also earned the title of field leader, making him of higher rank than the older Elf. The two of them had competed for the same position many years before, with Legolas besting him in both the bow as well as strategy and fighting ability.

This of course was conveniently ignored by Amaras, who had long ago convinced himself of his own superiority and what he thought of as the blatant favoritism shown to the delicate, ebony-haired Prince. But he managed to swallow all of this before putting a hand on his chest and, along with the rest of his company, giving the two Princes a respectful bow.

/"My lords,"/ he said before straightening up again, a true smile now on his sharp face.

/"Good hunting, my friend?"/ Valandil asked, smiling back as they warmly clasped one another's arms.

/"Slim pickings, my Lord,"/ he said, giving his blond friend a smirk before they both stepped back. He and Valandil had grown up together, hunted together and socialized often, and both held a close affection for one another.

/"We came upon only two orcs attempting to flee,"/ put in one of the other Elves in Amaras' patrol. He was a black-haired Elf of average height, quiet and easy going for the most part. /" But there are foul Naugrim everywhere,"/ he snorted, his sharp grey eyes watching a small group of the stocky beings heading back towards the valley to help with the clean up. The way he said "Naugrim" and the disgust that pulled at his face, one would have thought a group of giant dead rats had walked past. /"Aside from that, all seems clear,"/ he finished with a small shrug, turning again to his two superiors with an easy smile back on his pale face.

/"Excellent,"/ Valandil said, tucking a loose strand of gold hair behind his pointed ear before turning to another matter that had been nagging at him. /"Has anyone seen Captain Calencarka? Last I saw of her she was making her way through the battle with a contingent of our spearmen, towards the ridge the King defended with Mithrandir."/ He looked around at the others, but everyone either gave looks of surprise at the news or shook their heads in the negative, except for two.

/"I heard she fell in battle!"/ Elerosse blurted out, watching as all the others looked in his direction.

/"That can't be!"/ said Carnesir beside him while crossing his arms. /"I overheard Elreols say that she had suffered a bad wound and was taken to one of the healing tents in the ruins of Dale."/

/"I hope you are right, Carnesir,"/ said Legolas in his lilting voice, speaking for the first time since they had arrived.

Amaras spared the lithe archer a look down his nose, before pointedly turning away.

It just stuck in his craw that here he was, two thousand years older than this upstart and a group leader before the little brat was even born, yet having to take orders from him! If Valandil noticed the friction between his little brother and his close friend, he chose to turn a blind eye and ignore it. Amaras had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his face neutral as Legolas, who had been looking back at the injured and moaning Elf and his two friends, turned to his brother, totally ignoring Amaras' presence.

/"Brother, we must go. Cutholion worsens as we speak,"/ he urged before stepping away and motioning for the two carrying the limp Cutholion to follow. Valandil gave a sharp nod before turning to Amaras again.

/"I know you must be tired, my friend. But I need a few of our scouts to keep an eye on things- I don't trust all these mortals wandering about. Could you pick some scouts to keep look out?"/

/"Right away! I'll do it myself,"/ he told him. /"Besides, it will be good to get some time alone,"/ he said, giving his friend a crisp bow.

/"Well then. Go find a good vantage point and enjoy the solitude, my friend!"/ Valandil ordered with a laugh, clasping his shoulder before turning and heading after Legolas and the other three. Amaras watched him go before turning to the Elves silently waiting behind him.

/"Melwasul, take the east point. Calacil, you take the southeast ridge. Goalduil, take a spot by those trees near the arm of the Mountain. Elerosse, you will take the west ridge,"/ he ordered. /"I'll take the bare ridge across from the mountain."/ He pointed to the tall ridge that lay on the opposite side of the valley.

This meant that only he would have to walk through the bodies and remains of the battle- the others could skirt around it to their respective spots. For all his own personal problems, grudges and opinions, Amaras was a good group leader and had earned his title. The ridges he assigned the others also had trees and vegetation in which they could hide and rest; the ridge he chose for himself was bare of vegetation, though there were plenty of places to hide out of sight as he kept watch. And it would give him an excellent view of the whole valley and surrounding area.

The warriors only gave a nod before heading for their respective posts, except for Elerosse who let out a tired grumble and all but stomped away to the west ridge, clearly annoyed at the extra duty. The others would return to camp, and with that decided they went their separate ways.

The fastest way to the ridge was straight through the horrors of the bloody battlefield, and as he made his way to the valley, Amaras steeled himself. He had unfortunately seen much death in his thousands of years, but that didn't mean he ever got used to it. Far too many of his people lay slaughtered below- fellow Wood-elves, some he had known before King Thranduil had even taken over the throne after the events of The Last Alliance. It served to fuel the heat of his anger that many a fair Elf now lay broken and cold in the mud when they should be singing and living their lives under the dark boughs of their forest.

He had just entered the battlefield when he passed a tired looking contingent of armed Lake Men, and he just barely held in a sneer as he watched them limp past. _Damn Men anyway_! _Ungrateful simpletons_, _they are almost as bad as the greedy Naugrim_, he cursed to himself. It had not been lost on him nor King Thranduil that after begging for assistance from the Elven army- which they had freely given, draining their army's already low supplies- the Lake Men had loudly praised the Wood-elves for their kindness until they had recovered well enough and regrouped. Yet when both their forces turned their eyes to the Mountain and the thought of the treasure within reach… suddenly the Lake Men under Bard's command decided to set themselves apart from the army of Mirkwood days before the battle. _Then again, what should they expect from the ungrateful mortals? Men--greedy and weak!_

When Amaras reached the battlefield his sharp ears were immediately filled with the sounds of the dying and the laughter of feasting crows. His nose wrinkled in offence at the thick smell of death and blood in the air as he surveyed the grim landscape with narrowed eyes. With a final internal shake Amaras took a deep breath and began to run.

With the grace of a long legged deer he ran through the now quiet battlefield, dodging past broken standards and healers, leaping over mounds of bodies. He set his gaze firmly ahead, refusing to look at the carnage that filled the valley. His soft booted feet hardly seemed to touch the ground as he flew past obstacles and other survivors, many not even noting his passing except for a brief gust of wind and the fleeting scent of loam and deep forests.

As he ran he let his mind wander back to the battle. He had been on the ridge which had a large contingent of their army's archers, along with a few Human and Dwarf ones. All of them had used their position to rain death down on the dark army below. But out of all of the archers there he had been the best. Dropping goblins and orcs at each pull of his bow, _he was shining!_ That was until Valandil and his spoiled brat brother had showed up.

At the time he hardly took notice of their arrival, being too busy fighting in the heat of battle. He had been targeting one of the massive goblins of Bolg's bodyguard, aiming for one of its pig-like eyes. But the creature had suddenly moved to club an unfortunate Man, causing his arrow to be deflected by its heavy rusted helmet. Then not a second later before he could even hiss a curse, another leaf thatched arrow slammed into the goblin's head. He turned to see who had fired the shot, only to grit his teeth in irritation.

Next to him was the newly arrived Legolas, hands a near blur as he fired his bow with deadly accuracy. That little brat had taken his shot, dropping the massive goblin with an arrow through the eye. _It had been his shot_! No one else seemed to take notice of this, not even the lithe Prince next to him, all being far too preoccupied firing their own bows, but to Amaras it was an insulting slap in the face. _That little brat took his shot and made him look like a fool!_ he snarled to himself as he slowed to a walk, having finally reached the other side of the valley, the Lonely Mountain behind him.

With a final internal curse, he firmly shoved his resentment for Legolas to the back of his mind and began to climb the ridge. Like it or not, he still had his duty to do and this ridge would provide the perfect vantage point to keep an eye out for any activity below in any of the three camps, including the Mountain itself. Finally reaching the top he walked silently along the crest, coming around a rocky bend as he looked for the perfect spot. Some quiet time alone with his troubled thoughts as he looked over the grand view would do his frayed nerves some much needed good.

However Amaras was surprised and greatly irritated to find he was not the only one with the same idea, for when he reached the rise that looked out over the whole valley, he saw someone else was already there.

Sitting on the ground, gazing out at the view of the proud Mountain and valley below, was a tall dark-haired Man. The Man's attention seemed far away, and his right arm was wrapped around his middle (no doubt holding an injury), his left arm resting comfortably on his one upraised knee. Amaras noticed that he did not wear the simple clothes of the Lake Men, nor the browns and greens of the suspicious Woodmen from the south of Mirkwood, but instead wore dark travel-worn clothes of black and brown. The Man's very countenance seemed different to the Men he had come across in his long life- clearly he was not from around here.

"You are not a Man of the Lake, nor one of the Woodmen," he said in common in an almost accusatory manner.

The strange Man seemed at first not to hear him, and it was a few moments before he turned his head towards the Elf with a look of confusion. He had a weather-beaten face and striking grey eyes-no doubt he would be considered ruggedly handsome by some. He was also clean- shaven and a small part of the archer noticed that the mortal's skin had a strange pallor to it.

The Man gave a blink at the Mirkwood warrior now standing not eight feet away from him before his confusion melted away to mild interest, and he gave a small nod of his head before answering.

"Correct, Master Elf," he said in a husky yet pleasant voice. "My name is Darogon, I am a Ranger from the North."

Amaras' eyes narrowed a fraction as he studied the Ranger more closely - there was wisp of something familiar. Something almost…Elven about this mortal. A hint of something ancient. It was then that it suddenly came to him.

"You are one of the Dunedain," he said, more of a statement than a question, and watched as the Man simply gave an answering nod.

"Why are you here? What business does a Ranger from the north have here?" he found himself demanding of the sitting Man.

"At first I was here only to pay witness to the foolish battle about to take place," Darogon said in a near laugh. "But after the Wizard's intervention and the arrival of Bolg's army, things changed. A true and worthy battle had come. After that I could not stand idly by-- I gladly took up my sword and joined the battle on the side of light, to stand with the three armies of Men, Elves and Dwarves that had finally seen reason!

"It was hard won- I sadly lost my beloved sword and was forced to fight with my knife…but the battle was won nonetheless!" he said with a proud smile on his dirty and blood smudged face. "It will be many years before the goblins and orcs can recover enough to pose a serious threat to any of our people," the Man stated in his husky voice, made rough from years of smoking and long periods patrolling silently alone through the wilderness.

However the Wood-elf's previous bitterness had not yet abated and he gave a derisive sniff at the Man's words.

"Aye. Another battle won, thanks to the spilled blood of the Elves! If not for you damned mortals, many of my brethren would still be under the green boughs of our forest, instead of laying butchered upon the ground!" he snapped bitterly, his far seeing eyes glaring out into the body littered valley. His long pale hands clenched into tight fists as he thought of all the broken bodies of his people and comrades that now lay lifeless below.

"Damn the Naugrim," Amaras snarled, seething with righteous anger. "It is their fault this unnecessary battle came about! First trespassing, then attacking us during our festivities, then insulting our King. Now this (4.)! Curse their grasping greed and stiff necks! No better than the dammed yrch!"

The silent Dunedain meanwhile seemed to thoughtfully consider his harsh words, as if listening to one side of an impassioned argument before deciding to voice his own thoughts on the subject (asked or not).

"Do you know what I think?" he asked rhetorically, a small smile pulling at the corner of his blue tinted lips. "I believe you Elves simply fixate on the misdeeds of the Dwarves and the rest of us mortals because you don't want to admit that your kind be just as flawed as the rest of us."

At those words Amaras' head snapped sharply in the Man's direction, his eyes wide in angry disbelief at what his ears had just heard. The Ranger however took no notice as he continued on in a thoughtful tone.

"Thorin's small band and King Dain's army fought for the treasure, yes," he said with a nod. "But they also fought for the Mountain, their rightful home. The Lake Men fought for their lives and for the means to rebuild their homes lost to Smaug's fury."

"What was it that the army of Mirkwood fought for?" he asked, turning to look at the green and brown clad warrior. "What was the true reason to march your army out from the forest?" Darogon tucked a dark curl of hair behind an ear with his left hand, his other still tightly clutched around his middle.

Amaras could say nothing as he glared incredulously down at the still seated Human, his body taut as a strung bow, his beautiful face full of wrath. Still the Man continued, where any other being would have been cowed by the fury now in Amaras' pale, sharp- featured face.

"Your kind maybe Iluvatar's first and favored children, but you are just as capable of greed, cruelty and ignorance as any Man or Dwarf," the Ranger finally finished.

The tall Elf started badly at this as if he had suddenly been struck in the face, not believing what he was hearing, before his glittering eyes narrowed dangerously and his lips curled back. _How dare this ignorant mortal speak such things to him? After all they had done, to dare speak such things?_

"Do not DARE to presume to preach such things to me, Mortal! One need only read and listen to the long tales from our past to see that we Elves have much reason to blame the Naugrim and Men! Both your kinds have been the ruin of much and bringers of tragedy in this world. Do not presume to lecture me of "flaws"! Both your kinds deserve much blame! Or need I remind you what misery has come about by the greedy hands of Dwarves or the power hungry fingers of Men? How many lost their lives for naught, because of Isildur's selfish weakness? What of all the lives lost in the wanton murder and destruction of Doriath!" hissed the Elf, looking coldly down his narrow nose at the Ranger as he towered over him.

But the Man seemed unfazed and only chuckled at Amaras' righteous words.

"Yes, you are right… shameful indeed," Darogon nodded sagely in agreement, giving a momentary wince as the movement caused him to irritate whatever wound he clutched around his middle before continuing on. "I do not condone nor seek to absolve their crimes, but if we are in the game of appointing blame… why not put some of it where it also belongs? Let us blame Feanor for the prideful creation of the cursed Silmarils, the terrible jewels that wreaked such horrible havoc and destruction in the years to follow. What of the burning of the White Ships? Or perhaps we should heap blame upon the smith Celebrimbor, for making the great rings and, after falling for the flattery of the disguised Sauron, teaching the Dark Lord his craft and allowing him to forge the One Ring. Who do we blame for the bloody and terrible Kinslaying? How many innocents were slaughtered that day? By who? Perhaps we should blame all the First-Born for the creation of the orcs next? They were once Elves after all, were they not? Twisted and foul though they are--"

"ENOUGH!" Amaras finally exploded, rounding sharply on the Man, his grey eyes flashing dangerously, his pale hands clenched. Any other being would have been stunned and truly frightened by the display, for the anger of the Elves was legendary, but strangely this Man seemed wholly unimpressed and he just shook his head.

"Sooth your ire, Master Elf! I do not seek to lecture, but to perhaps open a new way of thought," he said, making a calming motion with his free hand before continuing. "It is always harder to look in a mirror and see one's own flaws, than to look upon another and count _their_ flaws."

Unfortunately his words only seem to incense the Mirkwood Elf further, who took a threatening step in his direction.

"H-How dare you! My kind-- all that we have suffered! To compare it-it-- !" Amaras could not even find the proper words to voice his angry denials.

"It stings, does it not? Perhaps next time you will think twice before arrogantly wrapping yourself in the petty and flawed armor of "blame", Master Elf. Bigotry and ignorance do not become such wondrous beings as yourself," the Ranger said in a maddeningly calm and cool voice, watching the fuming Elf from the corner of his eye.

"You know nothing, Mortal!" the lithe warrior finally snarled after a strained moment. He walked a few paces and flopped tiredly down on the ground with a huff, his long legs drawn up, nursing his wounded pride as he glared out into the desolation of the valley below.

The Dunedain however only smiled knowingly before giving a silent wince of pain that went unnoticed by the fuming Mirkwood warrior.

"Is it because I am mortal, Master Elf?" Darogon asked after another long pause. "Because I am simply a Man…a Mortal. Does that make me any less than you? Does that make any Man's or Dwarf's pain and experiences any less? Are the things I have seen and witnessed in my long journeys unimportant because I am not of the First-born?" He turned to look at the glaring Wood-elf who sat a few feet away.

"There is much outside of your forest, Master Elf. Arda is so very vast… The things I have seen…. sorrows beyond imagining. It is not only the fair Elves that have suffered much in this world; hardships and terror are everywhere. From Elf King, to Dwarf warrior, to brothel girl. All feel the darkness' cold bite, the pain of loss, the agony of sorrow. Yet there is such wonder and beauty too..." He spoke in a near whisper, his glassy grey eyes gazing out into the brilliant blue of the sky, lost in vivid memories from the past.

"I once saw the sun swallowed by the moon, turning day into night (5.). I saw sleek dolphins spin and leap as they raced along with the gilded ships on the great rolling sea. I watched Dwarves from the Blue Mountains painted in strange pigments that glowed in the night, "fire-dancing" under a sky full of stars. I've sat and listened to the enchanted singing of pale Elven maidens as they gathered sweet figs from Lord Elrond's orchards in the Fall. I've seen totally untainted happiness in the simplest of things… Like watching golden haired youths leap and play with their horses in the rich fields of Rohan on a warm summer's day. Their utter joy and laughter…"

He paused and a small wry smile pulled then at the Man's mouth, and the listening Elf watched from over his shoulder as a spark of humor came to the Ranger's eye.

"One day I even had the privilege of simply sitting and talking with a fair Wood-elf, after a long and hard won battle."

Amaras remained silent, finding himself then of two minds. A part of him felt humbled at what he had heard. Here he was an Elf of twelve thousand years, yet here was this maddening mortal that could only be a mere fraction of his years, a mere blink of an eye in his existence, who had traveled and paid witness to things that he could only imagine (6.).

It was however his hurt pride and the tattered remains of his arrogance that drove him to his feet, the part of him that refused to hear anymore. The part that didn't want to admit that this Man's words rang disturbingly true. He silently stood there for a long time before he finally turned to glare down at the still seated Human with once again flashing and haughty eyes, refusing to listen to anymore of this stupid prattling by this strange lowly mortal. Then with a sharp toss of his long dark hair, Amaras turned on his heel and simply walked away without a final word or farewell.

The silent Ranger did not move from his spot as he watched the elegant warrior walk away on silent feet. "_Fare thee well, Master Elf_," he thought as he watched the Elf disappear from his sight, giving an internal shake of his head before returning his attention back to the grand sky. His thoughts once again turned to his past, to the places he had seen and the assortment of people he had met along the way. For a long time he stayed like that, with only the occasional playful gust of wind stirring the tatters of his clothes and his dark hair.

No one saw when he slowly fell back to lie on the hard ground. No one saw as he finally released the arm that was clutched around his middle, revealing a terrible gaping wound in his side, his hand and the whole lower half of his left side soaked in his life's blood. No one saw how his body relaxed, his movements stopping all together as his breathing slowed. No one saw as he became deathly still, the sounds around him seeming to fall silent.

His final thought as his eyes finally fluttered shut was the vivid image of a Woman in a simple brown dress, with plaited brown hair and a warm beckoning smile on her freckled face. She would not be considered beautiful by most people, her dress and manner was that of a common peasant. But to Darogon she was the most beautiful creature in all of Arda. His wife-- his beloved Clea.

_"Come, my love…" _came the whisper of her sweet voice in his mindand he watched the image of her raise a hand out for him_. "It's time to go…"_

Only the sky above paid witness as one of the last of the Dunedain took his final breath and quietly died.

--------------------

At the same time in the one of the massive halls in the Lonely Mountain, two raven-haired Dwarves sat in the shadow of a massive stone pillar, safely out of the way of any foot-traffic going through the hall. They were both bare from the waist up, their stained tunics and borrowed hauberks laying forgotten nearby in a messy heap along with their borrowed axes. At the moment the broader of the two siblings knelt close to the other as he went about cleaning the ugly wound in his brother's shoulder, a bowl of bloody water on the ground next to him. The wound itself was deep, but was not too serious and would heal with time.

"Ouch!"

"Quit whining, Oin!"

"You're supposed ta be cleaning my wound, not making it worse!" growled Oin with a pained hiss as he watched his older brother work. Gloin only snorted and rolled his eyes at Oin's fussing.

"I have to get all the dirt out of it-- do you want it to get infected? Now shut your mouth!" he snapped, glaring at his younger brother as he re-wet and wrung out the rag he was using. Oin only turned his head, grumbling under his breath before irritably blowing some hair out of his face, and let his brother work.

As Gloin carefully removed the grit and dirt from his little brother's wound he let his mind wander back to the battle, feeling his own aches and pains. All things considered, they were both extremely lucky to have made it through the long battle in one piece. The constant ache of his stomach however made him think of the strange lithe Elf again. The memory made him want to grind his teeth. _Of all creatures! To be saved by an Elf!_ Oin gave another yelp and Gloin quickly pushed his turbulent thoughts to the back of his mind again.

"OWWWW!" Oin cried, squirming as Gloin finished wiped away the last of the dirt. Dropping the rag into the bowl, he then reached for some strips of material to bind the wound.

"Oin, you whine like a mule!" the older Dwarf snorted as he finished tying off the makeshift bandages.

"No I don't-- Ow!"

"There, done!" Gloin finally said as he leaned back on his heels to survey his handiwork. He watched Oin inspect his work with a sniff, no doubt still pouting. Gloin only rolled his eyes again before moving over and sitting with his back to the cold wall of the Hall, careful of his sore stomach, which had a large, ugly and black bruise the same size and shape as the goblin's club that had struck him during the battle. A moment later Oin, who was apparently over his pouting, crawled over to sit next to him, his movements slow and pained.

Aside from their numerous scrapes and bruises, both of them ached terribly all over, especially the muscles in their arms and shoulders. In fact with the exception of only a few, all of their company felt the same, most never having swung an axe or sword so much in their entire lives. At the moment most them, like he and his brother, had wandered off to lick their wounds and moan and groan in privacy. The warriors from Dain's army openly laughed at them and their whining, shaking their heads at Thorin's motley group. "Stick to the insterments you know, and leave the fighting to the real warriors!" several had laughed as they walked by. Truly Mahal himself must have been looking out for them.

Gloin had been contemplating taking a nap when his brother's cheerful voice shook him out if his thoughts. Turning his head he looked at his smaller brother, noting once again how Oin had always taken after their mother. Like he, Oin had inherited her deep brown eyes, but unlike him Oin had also inherited her smaller features. Both of them had her straight raven-black hair which Gloin kept back in a simple low ponytail and Oin braided into a thick tail that hung down his back, a few shiny black strands always seeming to fall in his face. Both of them were of average height and medium build, and were considered relatively handsome by Dwarven standards with Gloin freely admitting that Oin was the more attractive of the two.

"It's amazing isn't it?" And it's ours!" Oin crowed happily, a big grin on his smooth face as they both looked around the massive hall. Running along the walls of the hall were large reliefs depicting great battles and landscapes. A chaotic scene from the Last Alliance was rendered in jaw-dropping detail along the hall across from where they sat. Before the entrance to the hall two massive and gloriously nude red marble warriors held their axes at the ready as they prepared to fight one another, their long hair free and whipping about them, muscles and sinew bunched and tense. They were so wonderfully sculpted they looked as if the would come to life at any moment and do battle.

But even here there were terrible reminders of Smaug's occupation —deep gouges from his claws ran along the great walls of the hall, cruelly defacing the marvelous friezes. Even the two stone warriors and the great carved pillars had suffered damage during one of Smaug's fits —chunks had been knocked out of them and they were partly scorched by the dragon's flames. But even with all the damage, the dark echoing halls were magnificent to behold and they would only become more magnificent after all the debris and damage had been cleared. Then the restoration of the damage would follow, and the many lamps and the great fires would be brought back the massive halls and chambers, to shine brighter than before.

Looking around he should be ecstatic, happy as a fool, but Gloin suddenly found himself seized by a deep and familiar sorrow. The smiling faces of his children and mate appeared in his mind before being cruelly superimposed with their dead faces. The bitter knives of grief and sorrow threatened for a moment to utterly overwhelm him. The incredible accomplishments of their impossible Quest, the victory of taking back the Mountain and winning the battle seemed terribly hollow now.

"Yes, it is… If only my beloved Nei were here to see it," he managed to softly say as he looked around. "If only my children could see it…"

"Gimli will see it." Oin said quietly, bumping against his brother's shoulder, trying to lighten his mood.

"Yes, yes he will," Gloin agreed, a smile coming to his lips as he gave Oin a small bump back, mindful of his injured shoulder. "Harrumph! I imagine he and Ulfr are driving Hanar to absolute madness by now," he chuckled, and Oin joined him as they both pictured the old battle-scarred, silver- haired Dwarf, red-faced and pulling his beard out with Gimli's and Ulfr's antics. But as Gloin thought about Gimli back in Black Hollow a strange and sucking dread seem to slither around his heart again, and the smile disappeared from his face.

"Do you think he's alright?" Gloin suddenly asked, completely sober, the air of amusement evaporating around them.

In his mind he suddenly got a flash of his last day in Black Hollow. The memory of walking alone back to the old barn he, Oin and Gimli called home after trading an old silver bracelet for some last minute supplies with Tror. _The rough grey gravel crunching beneath his booted feet, a biting wind at his back, the smothering smell of coal that seemed to cling to everything in that small town. He had been grumbling to himself about Tror's lack of appreciation of 'proper' haggling, a rough sack of supplies over his shoulder, when he saw Rowell come strolling up the opposite way towards him. Gloin only spared the tall blond Man a glare as he continued on-- he had respect for the Man's ailing Father who was honorable and fair, but had nothing but contempt for his spoiled son. There was always a whisper of something truly foul behind that handsome face._

_They were just about past one another, when Rowell suddenly stopped him._

_"I've heard that you and your brother will be leaving," the Man said conversationally while idly studying his manicured nails._

_Gloin looked in suspicion at the white-cloaked Man, his brown eyes narrowed, face guarded._

_"Aye, what of it?" he demanded. Again he got the feeling of something dark under that arrogant facade as he watched Rowell glance over his shoulder at him. The Man made it seem as if it was he who had stopped and inconvenienced him._

_With a toss of his long wheat-gold hair, the human turned fully to him, the ever- present smug smirk on his lips. ._

_"Pity. I was just thinking… It's a shame that you and your brother will not be here to take part in the upcoming festivities," the human said in a tone of mild disappointment before giving a shrug. With that the Man turned and strolled away, heading towards the tavern._

_Gloin stared after him for a moment, before turning and continuing on his way. The Sickle Moon festival was coming up, but he did not understand why Rowell would even care if he and Oin were there for it. It was almost as if the smug human meant some other kind of festivities, but of what he could not think._

"Of course he is; he takes after his mother!" Oin assured, bringing him back to the present while he leaned against Gloin's side.

"Aye, that he does," he agreed, yet the strange mood would not be shaken. "Even so… I have a terrible feeling, Oin. Like…like there's a heavy stone in my stomach.."

"You worry too much, Gloin!" came a sudden voice, startling both of the raven-haired brothers.

They looked up in surprise to see Balin standing over them, out of his borrowed armor and back in his traveling clothes and red hood again. In one hand he carried a dusty bottle of wine and they watched as he pulled the cork with his strong fingers before taking a seat on Gloin's other side with a grunt.

"That wild son of yours is fine! Nothin' but piss and vinegar, that one!" he laughed. His red hood was back, revealing the many long thick braids that made up the older Dwarf's snow white hair . Balin's hair had originally been the same color as Dwalin's, but it had turned prematurely white after Smaug had first come to the Lonely Mountain. Out of his family only he and his brother survived that terrible day; Dwalin still carried the scars of burns on his body.

"Fear not! You named your boy well, Gloin. Nothin' but fire in that one's belly," he said, giving Gloin a friendly whack on the back. The three drifted into silence once again, back to their own thoughts, as Balin passed the bottle between them.

"Poor Fili and Kili, so young… 'Twas not right for them to die so young," Balin said sadly when the bottle was almost empty. "I do not envy the messenger who will tell the Lady Dis that her brother-- and worse! her two sons are now dead." He shook his head with a sigh.

From the corner of his dark indigo eyes Balin watched as Gloin's customary frown returned, noticeably deepening at the mention of Thorin's sister. A matching frown was also now on Oin's usually mellow and open face. Balin shook his head again before he took a final swallow from the bottle-- in all honesty he could not blame them. There was bad blood between Gloin's family and Thorin's sister.

After the Great War (7.), Gloin and his new mate Nei had come to live in the Blue Mountains and there they stayed for a short time. But the Halls of Ered Luin, while large, were nothing compared to the Halls in the Iron Hills or the Lost Halls of Erebor. Ered Luin was a relatively small city in comparison and not everyone could live there at once without overburdening it. So some of their people were still forced to live in smaller settlements in the region, or travel about as the 'Wandering folk' as Gloin's family had.

Now the true ruler of Ered Luin was Lady Dis 'the Steel-Hearted'. She was the only daughter of Thrain the second and younger sister of Thorin Oakenshield, and both Nei and Gloin fell greatly out of favor with her during this time.

It had all started at a large gathering one evening in the main hall of Ered Luin, a yearly celebration in honor of the first raising of the Great Lamps, with lots of drinking and merrymaking around many roaring bonfires. What had started as a good night of fun and laughter, deteriorated in violence when Gloin apparently uttered something in jest to someone. There was a misunderstanding of words and the Lady Dis took great offence to what she _thought_ she had overheard.

Whatever it was she thought had been said, she nearly killed him for it, using only her bare fists. When angry and enraged, Dwarves are capable of a truly frightening level of violence, and the Lady Dis was not called 'the Steel-Hearted" for nothing. Oin also in turn had one of his arms dislocated and was knocked unconscious after trying to come to his elder brother's defense. Several other Dwarves were also injured while trying to stop the terrible beating.

Nei had been away getting something when the incident had taken place, but when she returned and found the celebration over and in a shambles, and her mate and brother-in-law in an appalling state she demanded retribution!

After the healers had patched Gloin up and had guaranteed that her mate would live and was resting as comfortably as possible in the healers den, safe with the now conscious Oin at his side, she returned to their home and retrieved her battleaxe "Blood-Screamer". Storming her way to the great main Hall, Nei roared her challenge to the eagerly waiting, golden-haired Dis, who gave an answering roar of her own, her great axe "Killing-Frost" in hand.

It was a terrible battle indeed when the two enraged Dwarrow-Dams finally clashed, for both were greatly skilled with an axe and none were willing, nor foolish enough, to stand in their way. Sparks flew as their axes clashed against one another like thunder, their white teeth bared as they growled and cursed with a frightening fire in their flashing eyes. The two battled for hours, covered in sweat, their clothes in near rags. They nearly destroyed the Hall, and injured several unfortunates who could not get out of their way fast enough. It was only the combined intervention of Prince Thorin and King Thrain himself that finally stopped the fight.

By the end of it Dis had a broken jaw and an ugly wound on her back and thigh. A week later, a bruised and still visibly seething Nei and a badly limping and still healing Gloin, with his younger brother in tow, left the halls of Ered Luin with the knowledge that they were no longer welcome there.

"Either way, I am glad it is not me," Balin added as he put the empty bottle down next to him and leaned back against the wall. A heavy silence settled over the three then and no one felt the strength to break it. For a long time the two raven-haired siblings and the white-haired Dwarf sat together quietly, alone with their troubled thoughts in the dark echoing Hall.

-------------------

Gimli was suddenly jolted awake by a harsh smell that hit him in the nose like a punch. His large brown eyes flew open as he bolted upright in a panic. _The battle!_

He sat there in a daze, a white knuckled grip on the haft of his axe, his heart pounding as he hurriedly looked around expecting to be beset by shrieking goblins, before he slowly calmed and realized that the battle was over. The events from earlier flooded back: watching as the last of the Bolg's army was defeated, the cheers of victory, fists and weapons raised in pride and exhilaration. He remembered raising his own axe and voice in triumph, then strangely nothing….

He quickly concluded that he must have passed out some time later and felt an embarrassed blush rise to his face. _Fainting like some delicate noble Woman, how utterly embarrassing! _He felt like such a weakling.

Seeing that he was in no immediate danger he sat there in the mud, the cold bodies of the fallen all around him, while he took some deep breaths and calmed his racing heart. Putting a dirty and bloodstained hand to his head, he tried to remember what had happened to him… and what was that strong smell from before? It was then that Gimli finally became aware of a shrill voice.

"Wake up! Wake up!" cawed the strange voice from somewhere nearby, and Gimli suddenly noticed the presence of someone standing over him. The bright light of the clear day caused him to squint as he looked up at the figure before him. At first he thought he was looking at ghost and could only stare, openmouthed.

"H-Hanar?" he whispered as he blinked owlishly up at the vision before him. _Maybe he was dead after all?_

"Hanar?" said the vision in a low voice that was most definitely not Hanar's, and Gimli watched the scarred Dwarf cock his head questioningly at him. _This can't be right_, Gimli thought in confusion.

With a groan the copper-haired Dwarf closed his eyes and gave his head a hard shake before looking up again. This time the vision of scarred Old Hanar was gone, and a part of him felt a deep pang of disappointment and loss. Instead he now saw an ancient looking white-haired Dwarf standing over him, clad in mail and light leather armor, a massive Dwarven bow and a quiver that still held a few large armor piercing bolts on his back.

The old Dwarf took a step closer and leaned over to look closely into Gimli's wide almond-shaped eyes. The young Dwarf instinctively shrank away from this stranger, not realizing that the old Dwarf was simply checking the size of his pupils to see if he had a head injury. Seeing nothing amiss the old Dwarf stood up again with a humorous snort at Gimli's reaction to his examination and as he did so, Gimli finally noticed the deep green and silver trimmed cloak he wore, marking him as a healer.

Still feeling a bit dazed and thoroughly exhausted, Gimli looked around at his grim surroundings as he ran a hand through his loose hair—he'd lost his hair tie sometime during the fighting. A flap of wings to his left drew his attention, and perched on the end of a Elven spear piercing the body of a warg was a stately- looking Raven, her black feathers touched by the frost of age. Around her neck glittered a small silver chain with a carved opal bead made to look like a star, that had no doubt been painstakingly fashioned specifically for her. It took Gimli a few moments to realize that she was the source of the strange shrill voice he had heard earlier.

"Come now," said the old Dwarf, drawing Gimli's attention again. "This is no place to take a nap, lad. If I had not found you, you might have woken up in a covered pit." The old Dwarf chuckled as he put a stopper back in the small bottle of smelling salts before storing it back in a compartment on his belt. He then extended a weathered and calloused hand out to the young Dwarf. Gimli looked at it blankly for a moment before allowing the white-haired Dwarf to pull him to his feet, his legs feeling a little wobbly.

"What happened, lad?" the Old healer finally asked, after thoroughly looking Gimli over for any major injuries and seeing nothing serious. With the exception of some minor cuts and bruises, a shallow and inflamed slash across his chest as well as being clearly underweight, he appeared surprisingly unharmed. It was then that the healer finally noticed what the young Dwarf wore or more precisely, wasn't wearing. Aside from the young Dwarf's weapons and thick belt, he wore nothing but a pair of filthy and ripped trousers and a shredded red shirt with a pair of badly scuffed and stained boots. "Did someone steal your mail and the rest of your gear?"

"No…" Gimli said, shifting from foot to foot as he looked at his all but destroyed clothes. There was a large rip in the seat of his trousers, exposing the lower half of one tanned and firm buttock, and Gimli groaned as he looked over his shoulder at it. The thought of walking around with part of his butt hanging out for everyone to see did not particularly appeal.

"I, uh… didn't have any," he finally admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"What!"

"I didn't have any, just my axes and the clothes on my back," Gimli explained, feeling like a little kid who had been caught playing "warrior" in his father's armor.

With a flap of her dark wings the Raven abandoned her perch and alighted on the old Dwarf's shoulder.

"Young ones nowadays!" the old Dwarf snorted, hands now on his hips and shaking his head in disbelief

"Addled brained they all be!" the old Raven on his shoulder agreed with a bob of her head. After the two were done 'tisk-ing' and shaking their heads at him, the ancient Dwarf finally introduced himself.

"I am Vestri, son of Vert," he said with a bow of his head. Being of such advanced years he did not need to bow so deeply when meeting others, nor was he obliged to be at "anyone's service" now. The old Dwarf then raised a hand and introduced his companion. "And this is Lady Rin." The old Raven inclined her head at her name before they both turned expectant eyes on the ragged young Dwarf before them.

"Gimli, son of Gloin, at your service!" he said quickly, giving them both a deep bow after he had put 'Blood-Screamer' back in its holster behind him. Which reminded him — he needed to go find his other missing axe as soon as possible.

"Well, since ya can walk on your own two legs, go over there," the healer said, pointing towards the Mountain. "There be a camp of us 'Wanderers' next to the old watch-post on the western side of the great southern spur, just a stone's throw from where half of Dain's army be camped."

"Not far from the height of Ravenhill it be!" Lady Rin added from her perch on the old Dwarf's shoulder.

"But I must find and recover my lost axe--," Gimli tried to argue, the thought of losing the beloved axe unbearable. But the old healer would hear nothing of it.

"No arguments; your missing axe can wait!" he said in a stern voice that left no room for argument. "No Elf will want it and our axes are too heavy for most Men to want. Besides, it's procedure that all found weapons on the battlefield be collected and laid out before the King's tent. You can retrieve it then!"

Gimli reluctantly began to do as he was told, desperately hoping what Master Vestri said was true. He didn't know what he would do if he lost one of the beloved weapons, and he tried to remember exactly where he had dropped the large orc during the battle, the creature falling with his beloved axe under it. Thinking of his missing axe got him thinking about his mother and--

"Father!" he yelled, his eyes snapping wide, startling both Vestri and Lady Rin with his sudden outburst. They watched the handsome young Dwarf trip over the body of a goblin as he turned in a sudden panic and rushed back over to them.

"Please, you must tell me, Master Vestri! Gloin, my father, does he live still?" he demanded as he gripped the healer's shoulders, causing Vestri to take a step back and Lady Rin to flap her wings to keep balance. "He and my uncle Oin were two of Thorin's company! Did they survive the battle?" he begged the older Dwarf, his brown eyes wide in desperation.

"Calm down! Calm down, lad!" Vestri yelled, shoving Gimli back. "Acting like you've lost your head," he grumbled, and Lady Rin on his shoulder puffed her feathers in irritation as they glared at the copper-haired Dwarf, who looked contrite, but no less eager for his answer. Seeing that the young one had calmed and how important this was to him Vestri turned his mind to the question.

"Let's see…Gloin, you say?" he asked, reaching up to stroke his long silky beard in thought.

"Aye! Gloin and Oin, sons of Groin," Gimli said with an eager nod as he tucked some of his long thick hair behind his ear while he watched the other two with baited breath.

"I did not see either personally, mind you… but I do know from my fellow healers that all of Thorin's company miraculously survived the battle, including their Hobbit burglar. All except Thorin's sister's sons and Thorin himself, who now lies on his death bed."

Gimli felt a deep and genuine pang of loss at the news of Kili and Fili as well as Thorin, but he almost collapsed from relief at the other news. _They were alive! He had not lost all, he was not alone in this world!_ With that Gimli gratefully closed his eyes and turned his dirt and blood stained face up to the blue sky above in thanks as the clenching coil around his heart disappeared. Vestri and Lady Rin shared a look with one another before turning back the young Dwarf.

"My greatest thanks, Master Vestri," Gimli told them, giving them a bow so low that his hair touched the muddy and blood soaked ground. The old Dwarf however just waved this off and pulled Gimli out of his deep bow.

"Enough of that now!" he said, looking the tired and grateful looking youngster in the face. "Now then, you have your answer-- now go! One of me fellow healers is there resting. Get Master Lofar to clean and stitch those cuts closed; he'll be the sour fellow with all the brass rings in his hair. Then get something to eat and rest!" he barked, with Lady Rin nodding her agreement. "And don't think about wandering off and getting underfoot! I better see you there when I finish up here." The old Dwarf shoved Gimli in the direction of the Lonely Mountain, then stood and watched to make sure the ragged pup was firmly on his way. Then he and Lady Rin returned to their grim task of searching the scattered bodies for survivors.

As for Gimli, it was a sad trek to the Mountain as he made his slow way through the eerily quiet battlefield. He felt strangely numb with the wonderful news of his Da and uncle's survival, and the sad news of Fili and Kili's death and the approaching demise of Thorin. But for now the Lonely Mountain rose proud and defiant in the bright light before him, the surrounding ridges standing sentinel to either side of the valley under the clear sky above. Like a weary ghost, he moved through the utter devastation, carefully stepping around and over various bodies and fallen weapons, past hurrying healers and fellow survivors. He knew he was one of the lucky ones.

But he didn't bother to step around the numerous corpses of orcs, wargs or goblins, almost making a point of treading heavily upon them. Once or twice he heard a groan or a weak hiss as he did so, but their pain left him untouched-- he had neither pity nor mercy when it came to their dark kind.

Stepping carefully over the remains of a slender Elf that had cruelly been cut in half, Gimli's large eyes narrowed as he noticed a stained broadsword that stood proudly up from the mire, having been driven deeply into the damp earth amid a tangled pile of slaughtered Lake Men. Perched smugly and disrespectfully upon the sword's hilt was a fat crow, his beak and head slick with blood from his gluttonous feasting, his shiny black eyes watching the young Dwarf pass with only mild interest. A few of the crow's fellows were still feasting nearby, screeching and cackling as they hopped about amongst the bodies.

Gimli was tempted to run over and chase the foul carrion birds off, but decided that he was just too tired and that, in the end, it would just be a waste of time. He knew that the birds would just come back as soon as he left to continue their feasting. Giving the smug and cackling birds a final look of contempt, he tiredly continued on.

He had not gone far when he walked past the strange sight of a powerfully built Dwarf from Dain's army, kneeling next to the huge corpse of one of Bolg's bodyguards. A large black- stained battleaxe was strapped to his broad back, and his long dark beard was forked and tucked into his thick belt. Every now and then there was a terrible wet cracking and tearing sound as the large warrior calmly went about pulling out the goblin's teeth, root and all, with only his thick fingers, as easily as one would pluck the petals off a flower. Gimli didn't know why the warrior was pulling out the dead creature's rotting teeth-- and didn't want to know. Whatever the reason, it was clear by the handful of teeth already in the Dwarf's other broad hand that this was not the first corpse.

A time later he saw a Lake Man, angrily shaking the unresponsive body of another Man, who was clearly dead judging by the large gaping head wound that sluggishly dripped blood and gray matter. The Man however seemed to refuse to admit that his friend was dead as he continued to angrily shake him, demanding that he wake up.

Not far ahead, a dark-haired Wood-elf sat uncaringly in the mud and gore. An empty quiver was on her back and a fine bow, its string broken, lay forgotten beside her as she wailed brokenly. In her arms she rocked the torn and still body of another Elf, his ashen face wet from her hot tears, his eyes closed forever.

The image cut too deep and Gimli quickly turned away, unable to look any longer. Had he not done the same as he clutched Ulfr's lifeless body to himself? Had he not seen his father do the same, desperately rocking his mother's limp body as his howls of grief rang through the cold night? With an aching heart he forced himself on, careful of where he stepped, still hearing the Elf-Dam's mourning behind him. It struck him that there was something almost perverted in the way that even through the Elf's wracking sorrow, her lilting voice was strangely beautiful to hear as it echoed through the valley.

Not far from her were two exhausted Dwarves clad in the gore splattered armor of Dain's army, sitting hunched over the dead body of another armored Dwarf. One of the warriors clutched a cold limp hand in his own as he rested his dark-haired head on the other's unmoving chest. A steady stream of tears fell from his tightly shut eyes. The other Dwarf silently knelt next to the first, his arm and head laying upon the other's back for comfort as well as support.

Many survivors wandered the battlefield-- Dwarves, Men and Elves alike. Like Gimli, they were weary and grief-stricken as they looked despairingly for missing comrades or simpley moved about aimlessly, lost within their own troubled thoughts. And others still had passed from shock into madness.

One particular Man had a truly frightening look about him. His tunic was ripped and filthy, three deep claw marks running down the right side of his face and neck, and in one hand he carried a black dripping and damaged sword. Whenever he stumbled upon a live or dying orc or goblin, he took a grotesque delight in hacking at them with his weapon over an over again, until they were almost unidentifiable, before gleefully moving onto the next creature he could find. Gimli kept a wary eye on the clearly unstable human as they passed one another, one hand straying to his weapons as he gave the Man a wide berth. But the strangely grinning Man paid him no mind, seemingly blind to all else but his grisly entertainment.

Gimli remembered back to what his mother had told him of bloodshed and battle. _"What does not kill you, will make you stronger…or twist you_," she would say, looking at him with dark eyes that had seen far too much for their years. It was only now, after all that he had been through, that Gimli truly understood what his mother had meant all those years ago. Walking through the valley he could see that the unfortunate Man was not the only one who appeared to be on the verge of madness.

For it was only a short while later, that Gimli stopped to watch a lithe Elven figure wander past. Clad in pale greens with a satchel of healing herbs and bandages clutched to her breast, she was clearly not one of the warriors from the Mirkwood army. The pale and shaken looking healer picked her dainty way through the bodies, her wide luminous green eyes darting darted quickly here and there, stopping every now and then to look closer at a particular body. To Gimli the poor healer looked utterly lost and on the edge of hysteria, and he watched with pity as she unthinkingly ran a slender hand through her hair, smearing the silky brown strands with blood as she mumbled and twittered to herself. In her agitation she had bitten her bottom lip raw and bloody, and Gimli could only conclude that the young Elven healer had never seen death and carnage on such a scale before.

For not far away, another Mirkwood healer with a shining mane of auburn hair worked quickly and steadily to stem the blood flow of a yelling Man's severed arm. An older gray-haired Man helped the Elf restrain and bandage the pained and thrashing Man. The Elf's manner was sure and practiced; by the tight line of his thin mouth and the hard look in his jewel- like eyes, it was clear that he was no stranger to such injuries or even to the horrors of the bloody aftermath of a battle.

As Gimli steadily continued, the heavy tread of his boots ringing through the hushed air, he passed the still form of one of the great Eagles, downed by several ugly black -feathered bolts from a goblin's bow. Its magnificent wings lay broken and useless, never to take to the wind again. He briefly wondered if this was the same Eagle that he had seen plummeting to the ground during the battle.

He gave a tired sigh and ran his broad hand through his hair as he left the great bird behind. They had won. They had been victorious in their combined battle against the dark forces, but like in all war, it had come at a terrible cost to all.

Gimli hadn't even made it halfway to his destination when his steps started to slow before stopping altogether. He found himself simply standing there in the middle of that muddy valley, his sorrowful brown eyes gazing out at the gory landscape around him. The cloying scent of blood and death perfumed the air, while a cold, biting breeze tugged on his dirty hair, bringing with it the sickening smell of burning flesh. Large plumes of choking smoke rose into the air as the Men began to burn the bodies, going about the unpleasant task of tossing the heavy corpses of the orcs and goblins into the large pits they had been digging earlier.

_This is how it all ends_, Gimli thought. The true price that had been paid for their great victory. Dwarf, Elf, Man, beast…orc. Nothing but so much meat left to rot on the ground.

_It is only now, when we are dead or dying… in the clawing grips of our grief. Only now are we truly equal…_ he thought bitterly. And how truly sad that thought was as he turned his burning almond eyes to the glorious sky above--the blue sky that had no answers as a pale hunter's moon began its early journey across the heavens.

------------------

In the ruins of Dale, there was a tense flurry of activity around the three healer tents as Elves, Dwarves and Men, many working side by side, hurried back and forth on their appointed tasks. Legolas and the others had just arrived when a badly injured woman in the garb of one of the Lake Men—she had clearly disguised herself as a Man to join the battle — was being carried into the tent by a large warrior from Dain's army. A slender spearman from the Mirkwood army walked closely beside them, carefully holding the groaning woman's bloody and badly lacerated leg. With some careful maneuvering the Elf reached out with his free hand to hold the tent flap open and helped guide the burdened Dwarf carefully in without jarring any of the woman's numerous injures before letting the flap close behind them. There was simply no time to indulge in dislike and personal bigotries here, so for the moment everyone had put aside their differences and personal grudges to help those in desperate need.

Valandil and Legolas shot one another a look before they turned to watch a pale young teenager burst out of the flap with a large bowl full of dirty crimson water, dumping it out with a splash before racing back into the tent. Not far from the tent flap, a Man hunched over as he loudly emptied his stomach contents upon the ground. Legolas' taller brother was about to say something when a dark-haired and shirtless Dwarf suddenly shoved past him with two massive buckets of water, almost causing the golden-haired warrior to stumble. But before any of them could react, the rude Dwarf had disappeared into the tent.

Looking at the canvas tent flap that was covered in dirty and bloody hand prints of various sizes, something in Legolas' heart told him that he did not want to see what lay behind that heavy flap of material. Claustrophobia already tugged at his nerves. But a low, weak moan from behind him immediately made him shove these feeling aside as he turned to look at poor Cutholion who was laying limp in Lesgol and Aikanaro's arms.

The two dark-haired archers carried their injured friend between them-- the three of them had grown up together and were near inseparable. As for Legolas he felt partly responsible for them since they had been under his command on many long patrols in Mirkwood as well as during the battle. The gangly Lesgol looked to be on the verge of tears while he unconsciously shook his head at his bloody and unresponsive friend, while the shorter and darker haired Aikanaro turned pleading eyes to Legolas.

/"Please my Prince! We must hurry!"/ he urged, a slight waver to his clear voice. That spurred Legolas into immediate action, and he quickly stepped forward to hold the flap open, motioning them inside. His brother lead the way, followed closely by the other three, and poor Cutholion gave a small whimper before disappearing with his friends into the darkness of the tent. With a deep breath, Legolas plunged in after them.

The five found themselves in a loud storm of activity that seemed to Legolas to swirl around them in a blur. Men, Elves and Dwarves moved in every direction in a strange orchestrated chaos. He could now see that the dark and claustrophobic interior of the tent was lit by small open flaps in the sides of the heavy canvas, including two large open panels in the top of the tent, creating two bright islands of light.

They quickly spotted Dalmar working over a badly injured and unconscious Man with several wounds in his abdomen. He glanced up at Valandil's call before turning and directing one of the human nurses to try and stanch the Man's bleeding while he stepped away for a moment.

The tall and silver-haired Dalmar, who originally hailed from Mithlond was the King's top healer and considered very wise. In fact he was one of the few individuals who Thranduil himself asked his opinion on various matters. Legolas could remember seeing him talking and laughing many times with his father in the opulent private chambers of the airy inner caves that made up the palace. At the moment he now stood before the bloody and unconscious Cutholion, his elegant and long fingered hands on the injured Elf's brow and chest as he ran a critical eye over the unmoving Wood-elf.

/"Dalmar, you must help him!"/ pleaded Lesgol as he and the others watched him silently asses the extent of their friend's injuries.

With plummeting hearts they watched Dalmar finally put down his hands with a long sigh and look up at them, his face grim. By the tight line of his mouth and the flat look in his eyes Legolas knew it was not good news.

/"There is nothing that can be done,"/ Dalmar told them in his calm smooth voice, running a hand through his dirty silver hair. /"Take him out under the sky and make him as comfortable as possible./

/"N-no!"/ Lesgol sobbed, though it was more to himself than to the tall healer as he rubbed his face against Cutholion's non-responsive one. Aikanaro managed to hold in his emotions, but his chin quivered as he silently watched the silver-haired healer step back. Legolas put a comforting hand on the shorter Elf's shoulder, and Aikanaro gave him a small grateful nod.

/"I am sorry, but his body is too damaged,"/ Dalmar explained in a soft but businesslike manner, even as he stepped away to return to his duties. /"His fea even now slips away, there is nothing that can be done."/

But apparently this explanation was not good enough for Valandil, who had been watching the activity around them with a critical gaze, and he now turned that hard gaze to the older Elf.

/"What is this ?"/ he suddenly demanded, stepping forward confrontationally and startling the others with the heat of his voice. /"You are an Elvish healer, yet you waste your skill on these damned mortals when you should be helping your own kind! Dalmar, do not make me order--"/ His next words were lost however when the older Elf sharply seized the blond warrior's arm in a hard grip, then dragged him a few feet away into the corner of the large tent where a large pile of bloody rags and bandages had been dumped. Dalmar's pale angular face seemed made from cold hard stone, and his usually warm and gentle eyes were now like glittering chips of ice. Legolas and the others could only watch with wide eyes as the taller silver-haired Elf rounded on Valandil.

/"Do not think to pull rank on me, my Prince,"/ he hissed, stressing 'my Prince'. /"Firstly I am a HEALER! I will not callously pick and choose which of Iluvatar's creations I will help!"/ His luminous sapphire eyes flashed with a truly frightening anger, stress and exhaustion fueling his wrath.

/"Look around you! I would think it would be quite clear to you by now that we are far too ill equipped to turn up our noses at sharing our help with the mortals. We have not enough supplies and healers to take care of even half of our own wounded people! Our King did not march this army here with the thought of actual battle! And our previous aid of the Lake Men has already greatly depleted our supplies! We have no choice but to combine our healing skills with the mortals. Most of the supplies we are now using are those that King Dain's army brought. Seems they were the only army here sensible enough to bring a full contingent of healers as well as extra medical supplies in case of heavy casualties/

/"As for your friend, I feel for your grief. But would you have me waste precious supplies and time to a lost cause, when I could be saving others that have a chance?"/ he demanded of all of them then, looking over Valandil's shoulder, and they were duly humbled before the healer's piercing gaze.

Seeing that his point had been made, the silver-haired Elf walked past Valandil and went back to work without a further word. He then set about ordering one of the human nurses to get him some more rags and a fresh bowl of water as he went back to cleaning out one of the large wounds in the unconscious Man's abdomen.

As they stood there sadly for a moment, Legolas' sharp eyes caught a momentary flash of a familiar gray-robed figure. _Mithrandir? _But his attention was brought back to his companions when he heard a choked cry from Lesgol, who was biting his bottom lip in a futile attempt to hold back his sobs. There was simply nothing else to be done, but follow Dalmar's instructions. Without a word they turned and carefully made their way out of the tent and back into the sunlight.

Once outside Lesgol and Aikanaro, who were much closer to Cutholion, said that they would like to be alone with their dying friend and respectively waved off Valandil's and Legolas' offer of help. Legolas felt a bit hurt by this but could not blame them either, knowing he would probably do the same if it had been Valandil or one of his close friends instead of poor Cutholion.

Valandil on the other hand, still feeling embarrassed about the incident with Dalmar, said he was going to see if he could offer their eldest brother Caulnduil and their father any help. Legolas nodded and told him that he would join them shortly. He then stepped closer to his taller sibling and put a comforting hand on his tense arm. Valandil however didn't even look at him and only gave him a sharp nod of his chin, his face still flushed, before stepping away without a word, seeming to take no notice of his younger brother's gesture. Legolas let his hand drop then tucked a loose black strand of hair behind a delicate pointed ear as he silently watched Valandil walk stiffly away.

With that he turned and went back through the heavy flap again. Before, when his true attention had been on Cutholion and finding him some help, his dark surroundings had seemed a blur of movement and sound. Now that he was alone and truly looking around he could see what really was happening in here. The tent, like the battlefield in the valley, was full of its own grim horrors, but for now he was once again able to push anxiety and claustrophobia to the side as he concentrated on finding the Istari.

He did not have to look for long before spotting Mithrandir, who was making his way amongst the various occupied pallets. To Legolas it was clear the Wizard was looking for someone as he watched him stop every now and then to get a better look at a particular patient and more than once being chased away by a healer or nurse.

"Who are you looking for Mithrandir?" Legolas asked in Common, after approaching the Wizard's side on silent feet. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched the Istari, who had been peering closely at an unconscious Dwarf covered in blood soaked bandages, straighten up in surprise. The Grey Wizard turned to give Legolas a glare, muttering crankily into his beard about '_certain young Elves being far too quiet for their own good_, which only made the ebony -haired Wood-elf smile all the more.

"Young Legolas, how many times must I tell you? It is no wise thing to sneak up on a Wizard!" he scolded from under his bushy eyebrows as he clutched at his staff. He had had his utter fill of surprises as it was, without Thranduil's youngest adding to them!

"It is good to see you as well, Mithrandir," Legolas said with deep affection, his heart truly gladdened at the sight of the cankerous Wizard. Mithrandir just gave a derisive snort, adjusting his pointy hat with one hand–the other arm was in a sling, clearly having been injured in the fierce fighting.

"It is a relief to see you, Legolas," Mithrandir agreed, his grey eyes once again warm with affection and relief at seeing at least one of his worries safe and sound. A true smile now on his wrinkled face, he reached out to give Legolas' shoulder a paternal squeeze before turning again to give the unconscious Dwarf on the pallet a final look. Legolas could see the look of worry come back into Mithrandir's face as he began to speak again. "As for who I seek…" His words trailed off, and he gave Legolas a long and rather strange look, as if a sudden thought had come to mind.

"No matter, my good Elf," he finally said with a shake of his head, reaching out to give Legolas' shoulder another pat before turning away. "Who I seek is thankfully not here. Though I am now troubled as to if he lives at all," His tone was tired, and he spoke more to himself than to the elegant archer as he took a final grim look around. "If you will excuse me I must now return to Thorin's side-- I fear he has not much time left," he said, and Legolas caught the tone of deep sadness to the Wizard's voice.

As he watched Mithrandir walk away Legolas decided that since he was here, he would look for his commanding officer, remembering that she had been brought to the healers with a dire wound. And if he couldn't find her here, Legolas knew that there was a very good chance that the stoic Captain of the Guards was dead.

At that moment, the Wizard suddenly paused to look back at him, as if reading his mind.

"Beware not to bother Master Werks, young Legolas. If that cankerous healer could not abide my quiet presence, I doubt he will have much patience for you," Mithradir warned, giving the confused Elf a stern look before gripping his tall staff and making his way to the exit. Light flooded into the dark interior of the large tent for a moment before the heavy flap closed behind him, leaving the Wood-elf once again in the gloom.

Legolas gave a mental shrug then turned back to the interior of the tent, making his meandering way through the maze of occupied pallets, and keeping his sharp green eyes out for Captain Calencarka. His lightened mood from just moments before had evaporated as soon Mithrandir had left.

The air inside the crowded tent was filled with screams and moans, and seemed thick with death and despair. His nose assaulted by the metallic scent of blood, the sharp bite of herbs and the foul stench of bodily wastes. His heart quailed at the thought of going farther, but he forced his legs to continue, mentally steeling himself against flinching at the gruesome sights around him.

He was no stranger to gore or blood. Mirkwood was a very dangerous place to grow up and that was not including the added dangers of the Necromancer's lair in the south. Legolas, a skilled and tested warrior, had seen and received more then his fair share of bad injuries. Death was no stranger to those who patrolled the dark trees of Mirkwood. But this was different. This was not like the fierce periodic skirmishes with spiders or orcs, nor was it like the gore and death seen in the heat of battle. This was a different kind of misery altogether as the people here desperately tried to mend broken bones and torn bodies. It was far easier to inflict damage than to fix it.

A Man let out a horrible ear-splitting scream as several others grimly held his thrashing body down while a tall bearded Man with a face set in a hard mask sawed his left leg off below the knee. The rest of the leg was too badly mangled to be saved, and the blood was everywhere, covering all the healers and nurses. All in all, it looked more like some nightmare scene from a demented butcher shop than a place of healing. Not far from that horrible sight was a female Elf trying to clean a grievous wound on an unconscious Dwarf's face. Legolas felt his stomach give a lurch as he watched her pale nimble fingers calmly pop an eyeball gently back into its socket.

Moving on, he passed one of the islands of light and saw a low pallet where lay a horribly wounded dark-haired Elf, no doubt a spearman by his mostly green garb. The poor warrior was missing part of both his legs, his right arm was nothing but a stump and it looked as if he had been run through by a scimitar. Legolas felt bile rise in the back of his throat as his heart clenched at the sight. The Elf was badly convulsing in his death throes, and only the grim combined strength of a Dwarven and Elven nurse held the bucking body on the bloody pallet. One of the Elven healers, who was a friend of Legolas' by the name of Eilindel, had her small hands on the Elf's frightened face as she sang to him, trying to calm him and ease his passing. But he was deaf to her attempts as he cried out, grey eyes wide in panic, desperately pleading with those around him that he did not want to die. Legolas hurried past unable to stand the sight any longer, fighting the desire to cover his ears.

Unfortunately for Legolas the horrors of war were far from over. Walking through, he saw one human healer gently close the staring eyes of young Man, the human clearly having just died for all the healers' attempts to save him. Legolas was forced to get out of the way as the limp body was quickly removed to make space for another Man, this one badly injured as well, but still alive to judge by his weak moans of pain. Legolas could clearly see that while both the Elves and Dwarves had suffered losses, it was clear that the Men of the Lake had taken the brunt of the casualties.

There was a roar of pain to his left as a large red-haired Dwarf somehow forced himself not to move as several deep cuts running along his broad chest were cauterized with a glowing rod of hot metal. This was followed by the long keening scream of a dark-haired Elf as a muscular Dwarven healer expertly set the broken bones in one of his long legs. Another Elf held the injured Elf's hand as he whispered words of comfort to his greatly pained friend.

Legolas had wandered through most of the tent and had still not seen any sign of Calencarka and was beginning to lose hope when he finally spotted her deep green and gold trimmed cloak. Coming over, he saw Captain Calencarka reclining on a pallet; her bloody and dented green armor had been stripped from her and now lay in a forgotten pile on the ground next to her.

She was slender and rather short for an Elf— Legolas who was the smallest of his brothers stood almost a full foot taller than her-- but there was no one more skilled nor fierce than Captain Calencarka. She was not beautiful by Elvish standards with her light grey eyes and smooth but plain face, but what did set her apart in her appearance was her short dark brown locks. Though short hair was next to unheard of with Elves, especially for a female Elf, her dark hair had originally been cut during her time of torture at the clawed hands of the goblins, many years before Legolas had even been born.

She and a small hunting party had been ambushed and captured by a large band of goblins. It was almost four days later when rescue finally came, and unfortunately only she had survived of the six other Elves of her party. It was only her rage and pride that had kept her from simply fading at the goblin's cruel hands, and from that time on she was never the same. She had been a close friend of the Queen and a strong warrior before, but after she had recovered from that incident, she rose through the ranks and became the best, earning her title and place at Thranduil's side. She also kept her hair short after that, in honor of those lost as well as a part of herself that had been taken from her.

At the moment her still form rested back against the pallet with her green cloak covering her like a blanket, her pale face turned away from him. Sitting on a low milking stool next to her and working on her badly injured arm was a short broad shouldered Dwarven healer-- no doubt this was Master Werks Gandalf had spoken of. Next to him knelt a pale and slender dark-haired female Elf, clad in soft greens. Her name was Dindiliel, who Legolas knew to be a talented singer as well as having a strong gift for healing. Her slender hands could produce a soft blue light that could sooth away pain and redirect blood flow to keep damaged tissue alive long enough to be sewn up (8.). Which was exactly what she was doing at the moment, her eyes closed in concentration. A young healer in training crouched on the Dwarf's other side, acting as a nurse. Legolas didn't know the lanky Elf's name, but he had seen him a few times at court functions and celebrations.

The strange trio worked diligently at saving Calencarka's badly wounded arm, which had suffered a large, bone deep laceration. The arm below the wound had a pale grayish cast to it. As wondrous and seemingly miraculous as Elvish medicine was at times, even it had its limits. If his Captain was to keep her arm she would have to have the blood circulation restored to it, which was exactly what Werks was working on. After he was done with the veins and nerves he would worry about healing the badly torn muscles. It was a wonder to watch such large calloused hands, which no doubt held such massive strength, wield a tiny needle and thread with a delicacy the any Elven musician would be envious of.

Legolas had been watching so intently, filled with concern for his superior, that he jolted with surprise at the sound of a loud voice.

"If you're only going to stand there and stare, GET OUT!" Werks snarled over his shoulder in a voice that sounded like two boulders rubbing together. He then turned back and deftly finished sewing up a vein, his whole demeanor changing when he turned to Dindiliel next to him. She still had her glowing hands hovering over the gaping wound, and his gravelly voice was soft as he instructed her to allow the blood to flow gradually back into the vein. The chanting Elf's forehead wrinkled, her lips thinning in concentration, and Werks and the others watched as the dark vein seemed to inflate. The delicate sutures held and Calencarka's arm regained a little more of its proper color.

Werks gave an approving grunt before holding his hand out to the young Elf that crouched on his left side, who immediately put a needle threaded with a single fine Elven hair into the Dwarf's large hand. Werks then immediately set to work stitching another vein, and the young Elf patiently waited with ready supplies for whatever the healer might need. The two Elves and the cranky Dwarven healer made a surprisingly quick and effective team.

Still feeling the prickle of eyes upon him, the brown-haired Dwarf looked back again to see the tall lithe Elf still standing there. Werk had always hated people watching him work unless they were a fellow healer or nurse and even then, he did not like it. He thought it was just simple common sense: the less people crowding around and breathing near an open wound, the less chance for infection! Needless to say he was also not pleased to see that his orders hadn't been followed and so had no compunction whatsoever to hold back his thoughts on the matter.

"What in Mordor are ya still doin' standin' there? Are ya addle brained or something? Get the FUCK OUT!" he snapped, his olive-green eyes glaring as the ebony- haired Elf flinched in surprise. The Dwarf's gravely voice was once again loud and biting-- apparently the cankerous naugrim deemed to soften his words and manner only when speaking to the softly chanting Dindiliel who knelt motionlessly next to him.

Needless to say, Legolas was not used to being addressed in such a rude manner and could only stand there. Seeing this, the cranky Dwarf turned and snarled at the dark-haired Elf assisting him, who had been carefully blotting some excess blood from the wound. Legolas was even more shocked when the young Elf, without hesitation, immediately jumped up to do the Dwarf's biding.

The young healer- in- training looked apologetic as he respectfully came up and put a hand on Legolas' arm. "Come, my Prince--"

Coming back to his senses Legolas sharply yanked his arm out of the other's grasp, anger now flashing in his emerald eyes, and the young Elf took a step back in surprise, his bright eyes wide with worry. Legolas only spared him a harsh glance before turning his ire on the Dwarf, but the healer wasn't even looking at him, his dark eyes focused again on finishing stitching up a delicate vein. _How dare this foul little creature speak to him in such a manner? He maybe third in line for the throne and spend more time out on patrols than he did in his father's court, but he was still royalty and one of King Thranduil's heirs_! Legolas took a step forward and was just about to give this rude naugrim a piece of his mind, when a familiar voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Prince Legolas!"

He immediately looked up in surprise to see Captain Calencarka, who he had thought unconscious, glaring at him, her face now turned his way. Her luminous grey eyes were narrowed in pain, her smooth features pinched and terribly pale.

"Do as Master Werks here says," she told him in a calm but clipped voice. "I appreciate your concern but your presence is wasted here, my Prince. You have other duties to perform, like being at the King's side." Master Werks gave a loud snort at her words, not looking up from his extremely delicate work. The Captain of the Royal Guards spared the Dwarf an irritated glance before turning her piercing eyes back to Thranduil's youngest son and her best archer. "The King needs you right now, more than I do. Now go," she finished tiredly.

"With your leave, Captain Calencarka," Legolas finally said after a long pregnant pause, giving her a sharp respectful bow. He might be a Prince, third in line for the throne, but she was the Captain of the Royal Guard and had been one of his instructors in combat lessons when he was growing up. He also served officially under her command as an archer as well as a field officer. She nodded her head in answer before closing her eyes again, clearly in great pain as she rested her head back on the pallet.

Legolas then turned his attention back to nervous dark-haired Elf beside him, who silently pointed towards the large tent flap that was only a few yards away, past some other occupied cots and pallets. The young Elf was careful not to touch the ebony-haired Prince as he quietly returned to his place next to the Dwarf healer.

With his head held high Legolas turned and elegantly glided through the misery and ugliness around him, leaving Calencarka and the foul- tempered healer behind. Like a glowing light in a dark forest, he stood out in his terrible surroundings. More than one being took notice of his with fevered and pained- filled eyes. He did not know it, but his presence offered a strange comfort to some, bring a fleeting moment of something beautiful as he passed by. Legolas schooled his face into a mask of serene calm, the same mask he had perfected in his years at his father's court, even though he wished to cover his mouth in horror from what he felt and saw around him.

It was with a grateful gasp that he finally exited the tent, the heavy tarp flopping closed behind him as he gulped the fresh air, but his relief was short-lived. For here were the patients that had died while the healers tried to save them and those that simply could not be saved, like poor Cutholion or Brandor. They were neatly laid in rows, side by side -- the corpses of Elves, Dwarves, and Men alike, some covered, some not.

Here too there were mourners. A sandy-haired woman with two whimpering little ones hanging onto her, wailed over the body of a poor Man that looked to have been hacked literally in half. Further down the row a still armored Dwarf, notably injured himself, knelt next to the uncovered body of a dead Dwarf, silently holding the corpse's cold broad hand to his dirty cheek. Not far in a second row a young Man sobbed over the pale body of a bearded Man. But the image that stabbed directly at Legolas' heart was that of a slender dark-haired Wood-elf, clad in the garb of a Mirkwood archer lying next to the deathly still body of another dark-haired Elf. He immediately recognized the archer as Elanesse, one of the older archers under his own command, and he knew the dead Elf to be Dindil, a spearman and Elanesse's long time mate.

Bile rose in the back of Legolas' throat as he watched Elanesse lovingly comb pale and trembling fingers through his dead mate's dirty and matted hair, caressing his cold face. The archer's eyes looking so terribly lost as he softy sang words of love that fell on Dindil's deaf ears.

Legolas turned away then, his pale hand going to his mouth as he ran from the sight, his long legs carrying him past rows of dead that seemed to him just then to go on forever. Nimbly dodging past other Elves, Men and Dwarves, he made his escape from the terrible tents. Truly that place had to be worse then the actual battle itself.

He was not paying attention to where exactly he was going in his flight, but he soon found that his feet had unerringly taken him back to the main camp of King Thranduil's army. For he found himself once again amongst the light and airy green tents, the standards of Esgaroth and the Forest flying in the crisp breeze. He had slowed to a walk again, his soft booted feet soundless on the lush carpet of grass that had miraculously grown overnight in and around the Wood-elves' camp. The Elves took their green and mysterious magic with them wherever they went, and the very earth bloomed and came alive in their presence, even in the scorched earth of Smaug's desolation.

It was not long before Legolas found himself outside of the large royal tent-- his father and advisors and no doubt his elder brothers were already inside. Two armed Elves with spears stood guard before the entrance, their armor and deep green cloaks marking them as two of his father's personal Royal Guard, their flashing eyes missing nothing as they silently stood there as still as statues. But instead of going in, Legolas bypassed it and made his way to the back of one of the smaller supply tents nearby, out of sight from prying eyes.

The only other beings behind the tent were two tall Elven horses that had been tied to a post with long lead ropes to their thin halters, allowing them plenty of movement to walk around and graze on the sweet grass carpeting the ground. The elegant horses where in many ways much like the long-legged Elves that rode upon them, with their long necks and powerful yet slender bodies. The two stallions were the color of morning mist, their long silky manes and tails pale as churned butter, their large intelligent eyes a deep glossy brown. Normally they would have been free, but the Elves had haltered the beautiful animals because of the large amount of Men that wandered about. Elvish horses where extremely valuable and greatly sought after for their running and jumping ability; only the Mearas were more sought after when it came to horse flesh. While the Wood-elves trusted their horses to not run off, they did not fully trust the Lake Men not to try and steal one or more of the animals. So they had been haltered and tied for their own safety rather than to keep them from wandering.

Legolas spared the two animals a momentary glance before his delicate- featured face finally crumpled, and the hot tears he had been denying welled up in his luminous eyes before tumbling down his pale cheeks. The two horses' heads came up and their ears perked to look at the slender Elf now standing a few feet away. The Elf's long legs seemed to give out and they watched the lithe ebony-haired Prince sink to the ground.

Legolas crouched there, balanced on the balls of his feet while tightly holding his knees, hiding his face and weeping. He took no notice as the two long-legged horses walked over in concern. Sensing his sorrow they came to stand guard on either side of the shaking figure, whickering softly as they lipped at his hair and clothes and rubbing their velvety noses against him, trying in their own way to console the young Elf that wept as if his heart was splitting in two.

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Next chapter: Gimli meets some new people and is reunited with his father and uncle… after a little misunderstanding. And Thranduil and Dain go head-to-head!

Yes, this was intended to be a very depressing chapter. But I promise the next will be much lighter.

As for my reasoning behind some of the stuff in this chapter: in "The Hobbit" Bilbo is conveniently unconscious for most of the battle and later probably spends most of his time after Thorin's death in the Mountain (though he never really says). So he probably didn't see or simply 'edited' the uglier parts of his story out. I also think Bilbo purposefully changed and conveniently edited certain parts because he was a Hobbit and knew those in the Shire to be a bit xenophobic and insular. After all, who else would read his book, but other Hobbits?

As for the whole thing with the healing tents, this is just me filling in blank spaces again. The aftermath of The Battle of Five Armies is usually skipped over in a lot of fics or is used to leap off into some Legolas/Elf angst. But I really wanted to take a clear and un-colored look at it. Triage unfortunately is a necessary part of war, no matter where or what century, when supplies are limited. The thing with the healing tents always struck me as something that the combined forces of Dwarves, Men and Elves would probably have had to do.

In "The Hobbit" it says nothing of what was done for the wounded (aside from Thorin) and you know that there had to have been a lot of wounded after such a big battle. Yes, Thranduil marched his army out to take a portion of the treasure in the Mountain after everyone thought the Dwarves were dead and the Dragon as well. But I don't think it's as clear-cut as Bilbo makes it seem in "The Hobbit". I am one of those that believe it was for reasons other then greed alone, that Thranduil tried to get the treasure. There is definitely more going on here with Thorin, Thranduil, and the others than Bilbo lets on.

Thranduil did march his army to the Mountain, but it was not with the express intent of actually fighting. When he later turned and gave his aid to the Men of the Lake, it would have probably used up a lot of their supplies. The Lake Men themselves probably didn't have much in the way of supplies, thanks to Smaug burning down their town. But Dain's army was different, they had come expecting a fight and so would have probably marched with plenty of healers and supplies in tow. So in the end, just like on the battlefield, I think the combined armies of Men, Elves and Dwarves would have probably had to combine their supplies and healers.

I also really wanted to show the true horrors of war, not only the casualties of those lost on the battlefield, but those wounded. Right now with the conflict in Iraq going on many people have lost their lives, both civilian and combative. But what our current (#$&$#!) President in the USA doesn't say and the news media doesn't tell the public, is that for every one soldier killed, at least four are wounded. And many of those wounded are horribly so, i.e. missing limbs, disfigurement or worse.

The simple message is that war is ugly and must be avoided at all costs! Make love not war! gets off her soapbox

(1.) It just makes sense. Almost all cultures around the world hunted with bows or spears before gun powder was invented.

(2.) Yes, Dwarves usually live for only two hundred and fifty years. But some do live longer-- look at how long Dwalin lived, he lived 340 years. So it might be rare but not inconceivable that a Dwarf every now and then would live to three hundred or more.

(3.) Kazad: The name of the Dwarves in their own language. Naugrim however is a derogatory name for them by the Elves. In other words people it's like calling someone a nigger, chink, spick or any other derogatory name. A Dwarf would be insulted if he were called a naug or naugrim.

(4.) It only makes sense that the Elves would probably see things differently then Bilbo or the Dwarves, from what happened in Mirkwood.

(5.) He's talking about seeing a total eclipse of the sun.

(6.) The Elves of Mirkwood are considered more rustic and wild compared to those of Rivendell, Lindon and Lothlorien. They're described as untrusting of others and insular in nature, never having seen the light of the Two Trees.

(7.) The War of Dwarves and Orcs

(8.) This is another of my own ideas, but I got the idea from Glorfindel who is said to have special powers that he used to help him fight a Balrog. So I don't think it is too far of a stretch for some other Elves to have similar power but for healing instead


	14. Of Dogs and Kings

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 11)

Author: Ro

Warnings: Some angst and dirty humor.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few of the original characters, all characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli in the year while he and Thorin's company were away on their Quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is based on the books, NOT the movies.

More notes: This chapter has still not been beta-read yet. So yes, there are LOTS of mistakes. Please bare with me.

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"Of Dogs and Kings"

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Gimli finally left the desolate battlefield and was past the River Running, making his way to RavenHill by the time the red sun had finally set. Pausing for a moment in a flat rocky area near some boulders at the foot of the Mountain he looked back the way he had come, in the sad valley below lights seem to dance amongst the many bodies like strange fireflies. Many of the tired healers now holding lamps to light their way as they searched through the bodies, but the weak cries and soft moans of the injured and dieing were now few and steadily fading, leaving only the whispering of the wind. On the far end of the valley, the two massive pit fires where they burned the many orc and goblin bodies glowed ominously in the night like two gateways to some fiery neither world as the cloying scent of death mixed with the smell of charred flesh upon the breeze.

With a long final look Gimli then turned to sadly take off the shredded and soiled remains of his red shirt, seeing no reason to continue to wear the now useless material, no matter how sentimental it had become to him. He had just cast it aside when he sensed movement behind him. Still jumpy from the previous battle he whirled around in a fighting stance, a hand going automatically for one of his weapons that clinked on his thick belt, ready for an attack.

But what greeted his eyes wasn't a goblin or warg, but a scruffy looking dog that jumped back in fright at his sudden movement. The skittish animal seemed to be lost as it watched him nervously, it's tail tucked between it's legs, it's ears down, no doubt a survivor from the destroyed Lake Town by its dirty and singed brown fur.

As Gimli dropped his stance and ran a hand through his hair with a snort, he watched the medium sized dog timidly come towards him with its body low to the ground, it's tail down, but wagging. For a moment he thought about the two massive dogs that one of the wagon drivers had set upon him on that lonely road towards Bree. How he had killed both of the vicious beasts with nothing but his fists, sending them flying, feeling nothing for them. But looking at this poor scruffy creature and how it all but crawled to him before rolling over and showing it's undefended belly at his feet, it was almost hard for Gimli to believe that this animal and those that had attack him shared a common ancestry.

With a smile on his dirty and short-bearded face, Gimli crouched down and rubbed the dog's cream colored belly. He now saw that the dog was defiantly a "he".

"Are you lost, lad?" Gimli asked the dog as he scratched it's belly, its tail thumping the ground in answer. With the exception of his fear of horses, Gimli had always liked animals and had had several dogs before. Like Brastiff, who was a big red wolfhound that had been a beloved family pet when he was a young child, then later there had been others like floppy-eared Onry, silly Eleg and tired old Gil-galad (who Gloin had named on a bet).

With a wistful sigh at those fond and long ago memories, he gave the dog a final pat before standing up to continue his journey. The dog immediately rolling over and jumping to his feet to join him, causing Gimli to stop and turn back to the dog, its tail now up and wagging.

"Sorry lad, but you've got to find your own way now," he said with a sad shake, pointing away from him. The dog turned it's head to see what he was pointing at before looking back, it's mouth now open and panting, almost seeming to smile up at him. Gimli however was not smiling as he narrowed his eyes at the animal, he had no time to take care of a dog, having enough problems as is was without an animal underfoot to deal with. When he began walking again the dog once again moved to follow, annoyed now he settled for yelling at the animal this time.

Said dog however, only perk it's ears and cock it's head this way and that as it watched the Dwarf make sharp motions with his hands while yelling, "Shoo! Go on now, Shoo!" and "Sit! Stay! No! Don't follow me ya bloody pest!" The brown dog was quite entertained by this point before the young Dwarf finally gave up and simply walked away grumbling under his breath. The dog happily followed while Gimli, not having the heart to kick it away or throw anything, ignored his unwanted companion in hopes that the dog would lose interest and wander off.

He walked through the evening landscape, his thick arms now crossed over his bare chest to stave off the cold bite in the air, his thick dark copper-hair hung lose down his broad muscular back, protecting it from the cold. Listening to the night around him, his heavy footsteps, the padding of the dog that followed and the moan of the wind seemed to fill his ears as his dark adapted eyes easily navigating the way. Every now and then passing other beings, mostly Men who held torches to light their way and other Dwarves. The Wood Elves seemed to be keeping mainly to their own camp as the three armies regrouped and took stock of their men and resources.

As he continued his journey he couldn't deny that there was something comforting about the four-legged presence behind him, though he would never admit it out loud. Yet he couldn't deny, it was nice not to be alone.

Following old Vestri's and Raven's directions he came near the main camp of Dain's army. The rest of the army was either in the Mountain or still helping out in the valley below. Coming around the outer perimeter of the large camp, he openly watched the battle hardened warriors move about the many fires, talking or silently repairing their damaged armor and weapons.

His mother had been an honored warrior and soldier in Nain's army before she and his father had moved to Ered Luin after the Great War. With a sad smile Gimli remembered how he and his brother Nin would daydream of becoming soldiers for some noble Lord and becoming honored warriors, just like their mother. But that was before the hard times, when things were good and anything seemed possible then, the world not quite so ugly. Still though… it had been fun to dream, he thought to himself as he rubbed at his arms for warmth.

As he made his way along the outskirts of the organized camp he caught sight of a shirtless warrior, clad only in dark sweat stained hose with an intricate tattoo of stylized runes in blue ink running down his arms. His armor and the rest of his gear sitting in a neat pile by his bedroll as he fastidiously brushed the dappled gray coat of one of the three thick necked Mountain-ponies that chewed at a clump of hay someone had set out for them. Not far away two dark-haired and also shirtless warriors wrestled as a couple of their friends cheered them on and placed bets as to who would win. Not far from them, next to one of the fires was a rather cankerous looking fellow with braided strawberry-red hair, banging the notches out of a damaged axe on a portable forge.

Many of the other soldiers of the camp that were not busy going about their duties or running errands, idly talked and laughed with one another. While some sat alone with their own thoughts, while others carved at a bit of wood or were intently reading a book or letter, and many others simply slept on their bedrolls.

While Gimli watched the soldiers with interest, only a few acknowledged him as he past by, including two friendly soldiers on guard duty as they smoked from simple clay pipes. The other warriors that did notice him only gave a brief glance or nod before going back to whatever they had been doing. Seeing only a scruffy young Dwarf, clearly not even past his first hundred years.

With a final glance over his shoulder Gimli left the camp of Dain's army behind and continued to the much smaller camp of 'Wonderers' in the near distance. As he walked up the incline, a cold gust tugged at his loose hair as his stained boots scraped the hard dry earth as he climbed. It was some time later that he finally saw the old watch-post that Master Vestri and Lady Rin had directed him to. Coming closer he could hear deep voices talking and saw three small campfires with various groups of Dwarves gathered around them. The largest of which was directly behind the old watch-post, backlighting the small stone structure and making it look ominous, the other smaller campfires spread out nearby.

Leaning in the dark entrance of the old stone post was a rangy looking Dwarf clad in dark clothes and light leather armor, gazing off into the darkness at the other various army camps below. The fires in the distance looking like strange orange stars that had fallen to earth, the true stars above sparkling in their indigo sea of night as the distant sounds of Men singing floated up to them on the chill breeze.

The Dwarf was clearly daydreaming as he twirled one of the many intricate beaded braids that made up his long dark hair around his finger. As Gimli drew closer, the dark haired Dwarf finally sensed him and turned his head. It was then that Gimli saw that this Dwarf was around his own age as a large pair of mismatched colored eyes alighted on him, one shinny black and the other a stunning amber. Gimli also noticed that the Dwarf wore a light red scarf tightly wrapped around his neck and face, hiding his mouth and nose, leaving only his striking and expressive eyes to view. As Gimli stepped out of the darkness he gave the Dwarf a greeting as he tucked some annoying copper strands back behind his ear.

The Dwarf did not speak, but gave him a silent greeting in return, glancing at the panting dog at Gimli's heel. It was then that Gimli figured that the strange scarf the Dwarf wore probably covered up some past injury or birth defect that most likely rendered him mute as well. Finally coming to a stop before the entrance of the dark watch-post, Gimli gave a polite bow and properly introduced himself.

"Gimli, son of Gloin. At your service," The silent dark-haired Dwarf stood up fully and gave Gimli an answering bow before introducing himself, signing with his hands in Iglishmek (1.).

"Draupnir, son of Dvalin. At yours." Gimli smiled then decided to see if who he sought was amongst those gathered here.

"Do you know if Master Lofar, the healer is here?" Gimli signed. Like all Dwarves, Gimli could switch to Iglishmek without skipping a beat.

As he signed, he caught movement from the dark depths of the small structure. Taking a quick glance over the mute Dwarf's shoulder, he saw another Dwarf sitting in the cramped space within. The other was clearly a brother of the first, having the same dark hair and rangy build, he was also clad in the same type of dark clothes and light leather armor. He sat on the dusty ground of the post intently sharpening a collection of wicked looking throwing knives. Looking back at Draupnir, Gimli quickly surmised that knives where most likely his weapons of choice as well, seeing no other weapons on him aside from the large Dwarven knife on his belt. No doubt his throwing knives where hidden all over his person and within easy reach.

The mismatched eyed Draupnir nodded his head at his question and pointed a hand to the farthest of the three fires. "_He be with that stuck-up bunch over at the third fire, there_," he signed, his narrowed eyes and the sharp motions of his expressive hands speaking of an obvious dislike. Gimli took note of this then nodded his thanks before he moved around the structure.

The first of the three fire's had been built at the back of the stone structure, the ancient watch-post acting as a wind break and giving a small measure of security. Over the fire hung a tea-pot and a large cooking kettle, his nose and the following rumble of his stomach telling him it was some type of stew cooking as he watched one of the Dwarves get up to stir and add some spices to it. It was here that the largest group had gathered, they seemed a cheerful bunch, most being simple working folk or Wonderers like himself. It was here that he saw a husky brown-haired Dwarf, who looked to be from one of the StiffBeard clans, crouched before the fire, dramatically motioning with his arms and hands as he wove a story to those gathered. Especially to an entranced looking Dwarven teen sitting nearby, who could be no more then forty nine at the most. Like many of the others he was clad in simple working clothes that had seen better days, along with a long brick-red stocking cap on his dark-haired head, most of the other Dwarves around the fire either quietly talked with one another or were half listening to the story.

"And they took the strange Elf's invitation and following the arrogant creature through those dark woods. On and on they went… Until they reached a strange hut and there they greeted the Elf's equally strange wife. Please sup with us, they invited. And so they agreed, but after they had sat down… do you know what the strange Elf and his equally strange wife served them for dinner?" the storyteller asked dramatically, the fire casting sinister shadows on his round face, his stiff brown beard un-braided.

"Have you any idea… what terrible thing be on the menu that night in those dark woods? What the Elves had all been hunting since settling in that valley? What they had been eatin' that entire time?" He asked quietly, drawing it out, his brown eyes glittering as the young Dwarf unconsciously leaned forward with wide eyes, mouth open, breathlessly awaiting the answer.

The spellbound teen didn't notice as another Dwarf (who was his uncle) quietly crept up behind him, hands at the ready.

Gimli gave an internal chuckle, a knowing smile on his lips as he slowly walked by; he knew what was going to happen. Having fallen for this once himself and seeing it done a few times in the past when someone was telling this story.

"Dwarf!" The storyteller suddenly shouted, lunging forward making the young Dwarf jump in surprise then give a loud high pitched yell of fright when his uncle behind him suddenly yanked his stocking cap down over the youngster's face.

Those around the fire erupted with deep laughter as the young Dwarf, getting over his surprise, glared murderously at everyone; especially his snickering uncle behind him as he fussidly fixed his hair before placing the brick-red stocking cap back on his head again.

"Not funny!" he growled irritably, crossing his arms over his chest. This of course only made those around him snicker more as they watched a deep blush rise to the young Dwarf's cheeks. "Stupid story anyway!" He grumbled under his breath as he tried to cover up his embarrassment.

"Who said it was just a story (2.)?" The storyteller said in total seriousness all of a sudden, stopping and giving the youngster an intense look and for a moment all laughter and talking around the fire ceased. The young Dwarf paused and gave an unconscious gulp at the sudden uncomfortable silence as his light-brown eyes grew wide. _It was just a story… right_?

But it was then that he saw the storyteller waggle a thick eyebrow at him as a smirk curled the ends of his lips. The teen definitely knew then that he was being messed with again as he heard the chuckling start up around him again.

"Shut your face, Notch!" He growled, realizing he had been thoroughly fooled twice now before giving the now laughing storyteller a harsh shove. Causing Notch and the others around the fire to dissolve into total laughter again as the young Dwarf glared at all those around the fire as he pouted, even after his uncle gave him a comforting ruffle of his hair and a bump with his shoulder.

Gimli just shook his head in amusement as he left the group behind and made his way to the farthest fire, quickly skirting the edges of another group gathered around a smaller fire, not really paying them much attention. When he finally reached the furthest fire, he saw that there were seven Dwarves gathered around a modest fire quietly talking or eating, and amongst them he spotted the Dwarven healer he was looking for.

Sitting cross-legged by himself was a Dwarf with a thin build and a rather pale complexion with many brass rings braided into his thick honey-colored hair, quietly dosing by the fire. His arms were folded as his chin rested on his chest, his green cloak with it's silver trim around his shoulders. On the ground next to him sat a heavy leather pack of supplies, a black stained and spiked war hammer like old Vestri's was on his thick belt, his clothes still liberally stained with blood.

Except for the dosing healer, the other Dwarves around the fire all looked to be of the same clan and were probably family by their dark hair and thick features, all of them male. Gimli couldn't help but notice that they were all well dressed, their stained clothes and tooled armor was of particularly high quality and by the silver rings and chains that some wore openly it was clear that they were wealthy. The eldest and longest bearded of the group even wore a rich velvet cloak the color of dark coffee about his armored shoulders as he smoked from a delicately carved ivory pipe.

No doubt they were either from one of the higher noble families in the Iron Hills or one of the wealthier clans of merchants or craftsmen. Either way it was clear that these Dwarves were no 'Wonderers' or simple 'tag-a-longs", having come at Thorin's call for help and joining Dain's army for their own reasons. Why they had decided to camp here and not next to the main camp of Dain's army or with the army's supply wagons as most of the other Wonderers and tag-a-longs had, Gimli could not say.

He carefully stepped forward, coming around to the dosing healer, keeping his posture open, watching as the others around the fire took note of his prescience. While very few outside races knew Khuzdul or the silent language of Iglishmek, even fewer still could read the complex and subtle signs of Dwarven body language.

Except for a few that tracked the copper-haired outsider with their dark-eyes and the others that gave him a critical once-over before dismissing him altogether, the group remained quiet and unwelcoming.

Gimli felt irked at their dismissal of him, these snobs clearly thinking him unworthy to join them. But not having been invited or welcomed to join their small camp, he stopping short of the warm circle of light and those gathered around it. Though his fellow Dwarves could see him perfectly well, a Man would probably have mistaken him for some dark creature of the night, hanging back in fear of the fire, his large dark-adapted eyes glowing eerily in the night.

The dog that had been accompanying him kept it's distance from the group, it's tail tucked between it's legs as it paced the outskirts of the camp, apparently also sensing the hostility of this group.

"Master Lofar?" He asked respectfully from behind the dosing healer. At his words one of the healer's slate-gray eyes cracked open in irritation from beneath a bushy eyebrow before Lofar finally opened his other eye and slowly turned and look up at him. The healer gave him a critical once over with practiced eyes that quickly assessed the new-comer's injuries. Still not getting a reply Gimli continued on, feeling a bit uncomfortable under the healer's silent scrutiny.

"Forgive my intrusion," He began again, taking a step closer. "Master Vestri told me to see you about--"

"Sit down and shut up!" the older Dwarf suddenly snapped, causing Gimli to blink in surprise and promptly close his mouth with a snap. With a tired grumble the healer uncrossed his arms and sat up, reaching up he grabbed Gimli by the arm and yanked him forward and into the warm light of the fire next to him.

The healer then made Gimli kneel down and gave him another critical once over before getting up and kneeling next to the young Dwarf while reaching out and taking out some supplies from the pack next to him. Gimli bit back a hiss when the healer examined the long inflamed cut along his chest non too gently, most Dwarven healers where not known for a "gentle" bedside manner.

"Your in luck, lad," Lofar finally snorted as he set about cleaning the wound. "The blade was not poisoned. This cut will heal quickly and not scar," he said, applying some yellow substance to the cut.

"Unlike these," he snorted, pausing to run a critical glare at the many scars over Gimli's arms and back before going back to his task. Which immediately made Gimli think of the mysterious Lady Razel and Lady Raya and their wondrous healing, as well as the debt he still owed them.

After cleaning the wound, the older Dwarf then reached for a slender bone-needle and some hair-thin thread made of carefully treated deer sinew, that would eventually dissolve as the wound healed. With amazing dexterity and practiced ease Lofar threaded the tiny filament through the miniscule hole of the needle before fixing the young Dwarf with a long glare that clearly said, _"don't move."_

As the pale healer began to stitch the long cut closed, Gimli held his chin up and made sure to hold as still as possible. It was during this time that the eldest Dwarf with the velvet cloak got up from across the fire and strutted over to where Gimli and Lofar knelt. Gimli only turned his deep-brown eyes at the well dressed Dwarf's approach, taking note of the axe and short sword dangling from the Dwarf's thick silver and gold incrusted belt. Lofar however didn't bother to look up, instead reaching into his bundle for a small jar of special disinfectant sap.

The older Dwarf came to stand a few feet away, his thick body casting a long shadow, the firelight behind him causing his armament and mail to gleam as he looked down at the shirtless, dirty and ragged looking young Dwarf being attended to by the pale healer. Gimli said nothing as he watched the other, taking note of the older Dwarf's long dark beard that was intricately braided into three thick ropes with silver beads down his barrel-like chest. Gimli quickly surmised by the distinctive style of the Dwarf's beard that he was most likely haled from one of the richer BroadBeam clans.

"When Lofar here be done with you, find another fire to rest by," he rumbled, looking down at Gimli with a superior air that reminded Gimli a lot of Thorin when the silver-haired Dwarf was in a particularly pompous mood.

Like other races, some better off and more well-to-do Dwarves looked down their noses at poorer individuals, like those from smaller colonies or exiles that did not even have a Mountain or colony to call home. Of course these wealthy individuals were often of clans and families that had never had to struggle, most being born and raised in the privileged safety of the stone halls of whatever mountain they haled from. Combined with the fact that Gimli was still a young male, not even seventy yet, he was fairly low in the Dwarven hierarchy. The higher end being females, high ranking warriors, master craftsmen and those of direct royal blood lines.

Gimli almond-shaped eyes narrowed as he studied the Dwarf standing before him. As arrogant and as puffed-up with his own importance as Thorin Oakenshield had been, even he would not have been this haughty to deny a weary fellow Kazad a warm place by his fire. A part of Gimli was sorely temped to tell this pompous ass off, to tell him that he might be an 'Exile' and a 'Wonderer', but he was of more noble blood then all those here! _He was the son of the Great Lady Nei and Gloin of the LongBeards! He came form a long line of honored warriors! He had Durin's blood in his veins!_

Looking up at this self assured and arrogant noble, Gimli knew that if he wanted, he could have easily have taken this snob down a couple of pegs. The older Dwarf's thick waist speaking of more time spent eating and relaxing in front of a warm hearth then heavy working or fighting. Yet as tempting as it was to teach this ass a lesson in front of all those here as he watched the velvet cloaked Dwarf strut away and reclaim his seat, he was still exhausted from the previous battle and knew that he would no doubt have to take on the rest of those gathered here if he tried anything. So with a bitter snort Gimli turned his angry gaze to the dark and barren landscape around them and watched the flickering lights of the campfires nearby, the Lonely Mountain towering over them.

With a final nod at his work, Lofar finally snipped off the excess thread with his sharp teeth and sat back on his heels as Gimli looked down at the now stitched up wound as the healer turned to dig for something in his pack of supplies. A moment later he turned back with a long red bottle in hand, just in time to see Gimli gingerly touching the new stitches in morbid curiosity. Lofar promptly smacked Gimli's hand away with a scowl, causing the young Dwarf to flinch and yank back his smarting hand.

"Don't mess with it!" he ordered acidly, glaring at the now annoyed looking copper-haired Dwarf as he pulled the thick cork from the bottle. The healer then took a mouthful from the bottle, seeing this Gimli quickly closed his eyes and held his breath as the healer promptly spit the mouthful of the alcohol-like substance at him in a fine spray. A final disinfectant and mild numbing solution, all the smaller cuts and scrapes Gimli had momentarily burned before fading to a low tingle.

"There now," Lofar said in satisfaction, after wiping off his mouth and thick mustache with the back of his arm before firmly re-corking the red bottle and stowing it away again. Gimli wiped at his eyes and mouth with a grimace, the stuff burning his sensitive nose, luckily the harsh smelling substance was already drying and absorbing into his skin within a few moments.

"Done! Now be gettin' your ass out of here and find a fire to rest by," The sour healer instructed as he buckled up his pack before promptly sitting back down and closing his eyes again, returning to the almost exact pose Gimli had first found him in. With a quick glance around the fire Gimli saw the unfriendly gaze of all the other's now aimed at him, their message clear.

So without a word Gimli got to his feet and backed away from the group and back into the night before leaving the small camp behind. But not before flipping them all a rude hand gesture that caused a few around the fire to bristle and huff. Gimli just snorted under his breath as made his way back towards the other fires, the scruffy dog joining him again.

After a few moments he approached one of the fires that he had passed earlier, paying more attention this time. He now saw that those gathered around it were a harsh looking bunch, even by exile and 'Wanderer' standards. Gimli could even see a few grizzled looking humans in amongst the mostly Dwarven group, and unless his eyes where playing tricks on him, Gimli saw that there was even a long limbed Elf amongst them. Though he had never seen a singularly harsher and ruff looking Elf in his entire life, no doubt one of the legendary and mysterious Avari by his dress and manner. His dark hair was held away from his pale sharp featured face in a high tail on the back of his head, one of his elegant leaf-shaped ears missing. His manner as crude as those around him as he and some of the others around the fire played a game of cards. Every now and then leaning over to conspiratorially whisper something to the quiet red-haired Dwarf sitting beside him, who was busy sharpening the end of a wicked looking spear, no doubt the Elf's by the long lightweight haft of the weapon.

It was then that Gimli realized exactly what this group was and why they were camped here and not near Dain's main army; these were mercenaries! Though rare in this area they were common enough in the east and the other more established mountain settlements. It was a common practice for some roaming warriors to loan their "skills" out, for the right amount of coin to a village or town, who would hire them to act as guards or get rid of a local problem with raiders, orcs or even highwaymen. All those gathered around this fire were bristling with weapons and worn blood stained armor and apparently had bad attitudes to match.

For as soon as Gimli came near he was warned off by a deep growl from a large heavily armored warrior, no doubt the leader of the group by his baring. The hulking male Dwarf stood up from his seat on a low rock (that was actually a low boulder that had been dragged over to the fire) at Gimli's approach. His warning was clear to all_, move on!_, and Gimli did just that. Keeping the large Dwarf in his peripheral until he was safely past the hard looking group, the dog happily trotting along behind him.

As much as it stung his pride, Gimli knew the large mercenary leader and the other group of arrogant rich Dwarves were perfectly within their rights to deny any stranger accesses to the warmth of their fire. Unless of course they where a female or a better and stronger warrior.

If Gimli had turned around then, he would have seen the large ill-tempered Dwarf sit back down with a smug air- only to be harshly shoved off his seat with a clatter by his glaring and armored mate who had been sitting next to him on the low rock.

"Ass!" she huffed, looking down at him with a disapproving air before she went back to polishing her heavy helmet with a rag. The other mercenaries around the fire chuckled at their leader as he picked himself up with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Yah! That's what ya get for being a right mean cuss, Kain!" said a hard looking warrior, glaring with his one eye, the other lost on his badly scarred face.

"Poor Pup," said another grizzled warrior, looking over his shoulder at Gimli's retreating back. "Looks like that ones' had a right rough time of it." Kain however just gave them all a glare and a loud "Bah! To the lot of ya!" As he sat back down, after making sure his still fuming mate wasn't going to shove him off again that is.

Meanwhile Gimli was walking past the first fire where the story teller had been, grumbling under his breath, having decided that he would just try and see if Draupnir and his brother would mind sharing some space in the shelter of the old watch-post for the night, when a voice rang out.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Exclaimed a deep voice to his right.

Pausing he looked over to see who had spoken and watched a powerful armored female stand up from her spot by the large fire at the back of the watch-post. Gimli gave an internal gulp, she was _big_ by Dwarf standards and nothing but solid muscle.

Female Dwarves are much like the males of their race, their bodies made for strength and endurance, and like the males of their race they too grow beards. Though, unlike males, they only grow them on their chins, leaving their cheeks, upper lip and the rest of their face free of facial hair. However most outsiders did not know this and in turn often mistook female Dwarves for adolescent males or males sporting a long thick goatee instead of the usually thick full beard. Aside from the obvious facial differences, only their breasts (which where relatively small unless suckling young), larger hips and smaller waists would betrayed their clothed feminine gender to outsiders. For the most part females where usually the same size or a little smaller then the males of their species. But this female was unusual for his race, standing taller then the average male and even by Dwarf standards she was big and muscular. Her dark hair held away from her broad featured face in multiple braids snaking down her back, the thick single braid of her beard hanging down her chest, almost reaching to her belt and tied of with a simple strip of leather.

As Gimli watched her approach he noticed that she was also one of the most singularly unattractive females he had ever seen, though her body was strong and shapely, clad in form-hugging leather leggings and silver-plate armor. The dog forgotten at his feet hid behind him with its tail now between it's legs, the big strange Dwarf making it nervous. But what she next said caused Gimli's heart to momentarily skip a beat.

"I thought all of Nei's line dead!" she rumbled as she rounded the fire, her dark-eyes narrowed. The other Dwarves around the large fire seem to ignore what was going on, but many were actually keeping a weary eye on what was taking place. When Dwarves, especially skilled fighters, got into a fight things had a tendency to get ugly fast.

"I know her blood when I see it! You are one of her twins," the female stated, finally coming to loom over him. Gimli could say nothing except stare up at her, struck dumb at her words.

"I am Frar, daughter of Fraeg," she said, giving him a short bow.

But before Gimli could automatically bow and properly introduce himself, she had leaned in uncomfortably close and took a deep breath of his scent as he stood there tense, fighting himself from the want to take a step back. Watching her cautiously with his dark brown eyes as he tried to place this strange and very rude Dwarrow-dam, that somehow knew his mother, but he drew nothing but a blank. He said nothing when she leaned back again to look at him from a different angle, her big hands on her now cocked leather-clad hips, a large Dwarven knife resting against her muscled thigh.

"You do not know me, do you?" She demanded, seeing his obvious confusion and only getting a blank blink in answer. "I visited you and your family's caravan when you where young. Lady Frost was my mother's sister, she was the leader and Wise Woman of your caravan.

"Nigh but five summers you and your brother where, still had your milk teeth. Your elder brother, Daria was still going through his first growth-pains," she said, looking him over with eyes that critically assessed him.

Gimli did remember the Wise Lady Frost and that time, but was still drawing a blank when it came to the big Dwarrow-dam before him.

"Are you Water or Fire?" She suddenly asked, from seeming nowhere and Gimli felt his heart give a leap at the sound of those names. Names he hadn't heard in many years, names only his mother would fondly call he and his brother. To hear those names spoken aloud again conjuring back images from long ago that Gimli cherished. Of loving touches and embraces, of laughter and praises by his smiling mother and father, of happy times playing and laughing with his brothers and sister.

Gimli finally managed after a long moment to swallow his feelings and get an answer out of his tight throat. "I am Fire," he managed to say before continuing on. "I am Gimli, son of Nei and Gloin." he said with a deep pride in his voice before giving her a proper and respectful bow.

He was however completely unprepared and yelped in surprise when his arm was suddenly seized and he was dragged bodily forward, while a large calloused hand gripped him roughly by the chin.

Gimli had to fight himself from yanking out of her grip, his first instinct to lash out and knock her hands away. His heart pounded in his chest as he gritted his teeth as this strange Dwarrow-dam invaded his space, wondering in confusion if he had somehow inadvertently angered her. Unlike most other races, female Dwarves were often more aggressive then males and because they where a matriarchal society, Dwarrow-dams often became more aggressive and assertive of their dominance around other Dwarrow-dam. Being a young male, Gimli was far lower then she in the Dwarven hierarchy.

For a long while she continued to closely look at him, studying him, Gimli never taking his large eyes from her, steeling himself for whatever she was going to do.

"You have the look of your mother, child," she rumbled, turning his handsome tanned face from side to side with her firm grip on his chin.

"I am no child!" he snapped unthinkingly, forgetting himself for a moment and glared up at her with flashing eyes before instantly realizing his mistake and submissively dropped his eyes again. He gave an internal wince and mentally berated his fool tongue. He had seen Dwarrow-dams knockout males for less in his time, luckily for him the Lady Frar was not your average female.

"Ha! I see you have her fire as well!" she said with a bark of laughter, looking pleased at his reaction, her beetle-black eyes twinkling with amusement. It was then that Gimli realized that she had been testing him, for with that she released him and gave him a fond whack on the back.

"That is good!" She praised, hand on her hips again as she remembered the past, taking no notice as Gimli took a healthy step back from her. "I knew your mother well. I served with her under Nain's command for five years and the final battle of Azanulbizar. Ah! The glory of those battles! The black blood spilt, it flowed like rivers!" She said in sublime pleasure, an upraised fist clenched before her, her eyes distant, lost in the hot memories of blood and battle before turning to him again.

"I wept at the news of her loss. Arda is a far darker place since her passing," she said reverently, true sadness now in her dark-eyes as she looked at him again. Gimli only bowed his head with an agreeing nod, his heart aching with the thought of his mother, feeling the heavy and comforting weight of his remaining axes on his belt, he could only hope to some day become a warrior as great as she.

"But now is not the time for mourning!" Lady Frar barked suddenly, shaking off the melancholy and bringing them both back to the present.

"Come! You will sit with my daughter and I," she said, and with that she began to walk back to her seat by the fire. She was clearly not asking. Gimli gave an internal sigh and a final glance to the back of old watch-post not but a few feet away before following after her.

As he joined the others around the fire, some gave him welcoming nods or a brief greeting before going back to whatever they were doing. Gimli could also see that the storyteller he had seen earlier was still there, now smoking and talking quietly with another Dwarf, but most of the other Dwarves that had been listening to his story, including the young Dwarf they had been teasing, now lay sleeping, gathered together like sleeping pups behind where the storyteller sat.

He watched Lady Frar plunk herself down next to another much smaller female before she silently motioned for him to sit in a open space near them. As he sat down, the smaller female, who's name was Kaya looked up curiously. She gave him a long once over and apparently like what she saw by the look in her eyes before giving Gimli a friendly greeting, which he returned also liking what he saw. Lady Frar quickly introduced them before reaching for a heavy whetstone and began to sharpen her various weapons. Her daughter was surprisingly attractive and looked to be around his own age with the same dark hair as her mother and was as attractive as her mother wasn't. She was slightly smaller the Gimli himself and wore leather britches and boots like her mother, but not having participated in the fighting she wore no armor, instead a laced leather bodice and long sleeved blouse under her embroidered purple hood.

After he had sat down and gotten comfortable next to Kaya, the dog that had been following him promptly invited himself over and lay down between them near the fire as if he did so every night. The young Dwarrow-dam chuckled and gave the dog a few pets while Gimli shot the dog an annoyed look.

"Nice dog," said someone.

"It's not my dog! It just keeps following me around." He snapped as he glared in exasperation at the dirty and brown furred canine next to him. The other Dwarves however didn't seem to hear or care, going back to what they were doing before.

It was then that Lady Frar, after lighting-up her pipe, demanded he tell them how he came to be here. So for the next hour he told of the terrible fate of those of Black Hallow and the long journey to the Mountain and the following battle without going into too much detail. Though Frar made him go into greater detail about his time during the battle. What she heard pleased her greatly, for after he was done she proudly reached past her daughter and thumped him heavily on the back a few times.

"Good, good! Your mother would be proud, you honor your blood! Your name is well earned, lad! The fire of battle stirs in your heart!" She praised and Gimli couldn't help the surge of pride he felt.

During the next hour the other Dwarves around the fire talked about how they came to hear of Thorin's company taking back of the Lonely Mountain and joining Dain's army on their hard march to the Mountain. It was soon after that that the two-toned eyed Draupnir and his elder brother Dolgthrasir joined them, deciding not to spend the night in the old watch-post and enjoy the warmth of the fire. Both of them coming over and taking a seat on Gimli's other side upon seeing him, the copper-haired Dwarf waving them over. It was also this time that two heavily armed soldiers from the camp of Dain's army wondered over, having been boredly walking around. The larger of the two was named Bavor, who stayed standing while his darker-haired companion sat down next to Notch the storyteller and began to talk, apparently knowing one another.

The other Dwarves around the fire were a interesting mix from different clans and backgrounds, most having taken part in the battle, save for an obvious few. There was Notch, the storyteller and the rest of his family who were stone-masons, at the moment all of them were already asleep behind the stocky storyteller. There was also a large armored warrior by the name of Griff, who had light brown hair done in many long braids and seemed to have a rather sour disposition, a freshly sharpened broadsword at his hip and heavy round shield on the ground behind him. The short round-faced Dwarf sitting next to him, who occasionally stirred the large pot of stew over the fire was a friendly fellow by the name of Har, who was a cook by trade from one of the smaller settlements near the Iron Hills. On the other side of the fire sat two brothers, Finn and Ginnar who where clearly from one of the FireBeard clans by their bright flame-red hair, neither of the two where the sharpest knives in the arsenal, but they where good-hearted and honorable. Their weapons of choice were two massive long-handled war hammers that rested on the ground beside them. Sitting next to them was a quiet dark-haired Dwarf named Thrin, who wore some badly damaged and bloodstained armor, his long hair messy and tangled as he idly ran his cut and bloodstained hands over a dented helmet that clearly wasn't his own. His pale face still coved in dry red blood, his silent demeanor and the lost look in his dark eyes spoke of one who had lost someone that had been very dear. The other Dwarves around the fire respectfully gave him his space, knowing that the silent Dwarf was clearly mourning for someone that had not survive the battle.

There was a shuffle of boots that announced the arrival of another Dwarf, looking up Gimli saw the ancient white-haired healer that had awaken him on the battlefield earlier step out of the darkness. Upon his shoulder was the old Raven, Lady Rin's sharp intelligent eyes giving them all a critical glare before saying something to Vestri, causing him to snort in laughter amusement.

"Ah, good!" The old Dwarf said aloud when he noticed young copper-haired Dwarf, now shirtless, sitting amongst those around the warm fire, pleased that the ragged young one had clearly followed his orders as he moved to join the group. Seeing a comfortable looking spot he walked over to the back of the stone watch-post, the younger Dwarves immediately making room for him. Being of such advanced years he did not need to ask if he could join their camp, he could sit where ever he damn well wanted!

With much pleasure he finally set down his heavy pack of supplies along with his quiver, then propped the large heavy bow against the back of the watch-post before slowly lowering himself down with grunt next to it. Lady Rin having to flap her graying wings a few times to keep balance before the ancient Dwarf had settled, his joints aching. After Vestri had gotten comfortable, resting against the solid stone behind him, the warm fire before him, he looked over at Gimli, giving the young Dwarf a critical once over. Seeing the cut across Gimli's chest had been expertly stitched, he gave a satisfied nod. It was also with some amusement that he noticed that the young one seemed to have picked up a dog an the way here.

Har, upon seeing the ancient healer join them, fixed the old Dwarf a warm cup of tea, which Vestri gratefully excepted. The small cook then offered around small tin cups, telling everyone that they were welcome to the coffee and teapot hanging over the fire with the still cooking kettle of stew. Griff and a few of the others helping themselves to a cup as Har apologized for the lack of cream and sugar, the others waving off his apologies, happy to drink it black.

It was during this time that Draupnir next to Gimli, reached up and unwrapped the scarf from around his face, Gimli turning to watch in open curiosity. Scars and other such injuries where not considered unsightly in Dwarven society, only a crippling disability or weakness was considered something one should cover. When he was done and Gimli finally got a good look at his full face, he couldn't help give an internal wince as he looked at the other Dwarf in respectful appreciation of what he had clearly managed to survive and endure.

To say his disfigurement was hideous was putting it lightly. Where Draupnir's nose should have been there was nothing but two dark open nasal cavities, he also had no lips, his sharp pearly white teeth visible to all. He had no beard to speak of, the tight and ropy scar tissue of his lower face spoke of it being burned off by some terrible heat, his massive disfigurement giving the impression of a living grinning skull.

Dolgthrasir noticed the surprised looks his scarred younger brother was getting from some of the Dwarves around the fire. Finn and Ginnar giving low whistles of admiration from where they sat, their flame-colored eyebrows raised in wide-eyed surprise. Old Vestri studied Draupnir with the assessing and thoughtful eyes of a healer, mentally congratulating the healer that had managed to save the young Dwarf and counteract the infection that no doubt would have set in with such massive trauma.

"Orcs." Dolgthrasir said as way of explanation, and the others around the fire nodded their heads in instant understanding. Unlike an Elf that could fade or simply flee their bodies when being tortured, Men and Dwarves had no such option.

And because Aule made the Dwarves when Melkor had roamed the land, he made them hardy and able to endure. They could survive hunger, hardship and injury more heartily then all other speaking races (3.). Looking at individuals like Draupnir or the late Hanar it was easy to see why Dwarves where considered the toughest of all the free speaking races. They could survive horrible damage inflicted upon them that would normally kill any other being and the orcs and goblins had come to gleefully know this and take full advantage of it. Enabling them to torture a Dwarven victim for more prolong periods and come up with more imaginative agonies for them.

Draupnir's eyes narrowed in the unmistakable spark of mischief as he caught Gimli staring. For Gimli gave a blink as he watched a broad pink tongue suddenly flicked out from behind the Dwarf's bare teeth, followed by the unmistakable sound of a raspberry being blown. Gimli couldn't help a snort of amusement and promptly stuck his own tongue out back at the scarred Dwarf.

"If you look like that, what does the orc look like?" He finally asked with a laugh, watching the amusement in Draupnir expressive eyes.

"_He has to walk backwards and talk out of his ass_!" he signed back with his nimble hands, as his shoulders shook with laughter. Several others around the fire also laughed in amusement having seen what he signed.

It was then that Har began to ladle out the stew after bringing out a stack of simple bowls, having apparently packed some extra. "Just in case," he had winked. Everyone around the fire excepted a bowl except the solemn and quiet Thrin, who only shook his head no to an offered bowl, still cradling the damaged helmet as if it was some precious treasure.

"Here, pass these around. I traded some salt for some of this here waybread from the Lake Men's camp. 'Cram' I think they be calling it," he said as he took out a small bundle and uncovered the brown cakes before passing it to the Dwarf next to him before going back to ladling out the stew.

Gimli already knew how dry and unpleasant cram was, remembering the bland taste from the cakes he had managed to pinch from the Lake Men's camp two days previous. But when one was hungry, one could not afford to be picky, so he took a cake when it was passed around. The dog beside him watching the activity in rapt interest, his dark nose working over time as he smelled the food.

Griff took a bite before making a face and promptly spitting it out, then taking a swig of his coffee. "Cram you say? Dry crap, I call it!" he snorted, glaring at the dry bit of bred in his hand as if it was a poisonous snake before tossing it into the fire with disgust.

"Oy now!" scolded Har, as he wrapped up the rest and stowed the bundle away in his monstrous pack. "Just cause ya don't like it, don't mean ya got ta waste it!" Admonished the smaller cook, but the large warrior only gave a humph before turning away.

"It ain't too bad soaked in stew," said Finn, popping his now sopping bit of cram in his mouth. His red-haired brother beside him giving a nod of agreement as he ate his own, Gimli, Draupnir and his brother copying them.

It was then that the dog, who had been watching Gimli eat, forgotten by the others gave a bark causing some to jump and Gimli to halt in his eating and glare down at said dog, while some of the others chuckle in amusement or grumble in annoyance.

"Well now! We can't have the lad's loyal companion go without, can we," Har said with a laugh from the other side of the fire.

Gimli was just about to growl out again that, _it wasn't his damn dog_, but gave a sigh of defeat as he looked down at the scruffy canine that looked innocently up at him with it's head cocked to the side and licking it's lips hungrily. Wanted or not, it looked like it was "he" who had been adopted by the persistent mutt.

With a smile the cook got out another bowl and ladled some stew into it, then passing it over the fire to Kaya who put it before the eager dog that jumped to its feet as soon as it realized that this bowl was for him. He did a happy spin before digging in with a gusto. Kaya gave a laugh and gave the animal a fond pat on the back, the dog paused in it's eating long enough to give her cheek a big thankful lick before going back to it's bowl.

"You call me wasteful, yet you waste good food on that mangy mongrel?" Griff grumbled sourly as he sipped his coffee.

"Well at least he gratefully eats my food, instead of wastefully throwing it into the fire!" Har sniffed, not even bothering to look at the glowering Dwarf as he finally served himself and sat down to eat. They all drifted into silence as they ate before the dark-haired Dolgthrasir spoke again.

"Hey Gimli? Your friend there got a name?" he teased, looking up from his stew as Gimli handed back the dog's now licked clean bowl before going back to his own. Yet before he could reply back, he was interrupted by a sneering voice.

"Gimli? What does that mean?" Sniffed Bavor, the armored soldier that stood quietly on the apposite side of the fire, almost forgotten, breaking rudely into their conversation. He and the other soldier, who was still talking to Notch, had both declined an offered bowl of stew, having eaten earlier with the rest of the army.

_"Fire, right_?" signed Draupnir one handed, while he held his bowl of stew with his other, looking at the copper-haired Dwarf next to him.

Gimli, who had his mouth full at the moment, gave a nod of his head as he signed back. "_Aye, that it does." _He answered, sparing the standing soldier a brief glareIt didn't matter what race one hailed from, there was always someone trying to stir up trouble

"And if I be remembering correctly…" Vestri mused from his spot, as he stroked his long silky white beard. "Its another name for 'Star' in one of the other Mannish tongues. Yes?"

"Star? What kind of name is that? Sounds positively Elvish!" Bavor snorted with an insulting laugh, looking down at Gimli with an eyebrow cocked.

Gimli said nothing as he narrowed his eyes at the warrior. This would not be the first time he was razed about his name and he highly doubted it would be the last.

"Well I like it." Old Vestri stated, Lady Rin giving an agreeing bob of her head before she went back to preened one of her wings. "Fire and Stars. It somehow suits you, lad!" the old Dwarf smiled before taking a sip of his tea.

"I like it too!" Agreed Kaya, from her place next to her mother who was silently smoked her pipe, blowing the occasional smoke ring. She gave Gimli a smile and a seductive wink before turning to glare up at the standing soldier. "Sides' what kind of name be Bavor?" she snorted, looking pointedly up at him. "What does that stand for?"

Bavor was just opening his mouth to give a haughty reply, irritation clearly written on his face when Finn suddenly interrupted him from the other side of the fire.

"Oh! I know what it be mean'in!" He eagerly said, he and his brother sitting eagerly at attention now, both with matching mischievous grins on their red-bearded faces.

"Its Elvish for Turd!" Ginnar burst out with a laugh next to him. He and his brother then proceeded to fall over each other in their uproarious laughter. Needless to say Bavor was glaring murder at the two now rolling FireBeards as everyone around the fire continued to laugh. Even Gimli could not help, but throw his head back and laugh at how red Bavor's face now was as he glared at everyone.

Before he could snap a reply, the eerie call of a Barn owl rang through the night air, calling out two more times before falling silent again. All the Dwarves around the fire paused to listen, immediately recognizing it as a disguised Dwarven call. Specifically it was a call used by the Dwarven army to call any wayward soldiers back to camp immediately, without a further word Bavor and the other soldier that had been talking with Notch, got up and quickly jogged back into the night, heading back to Dain's camp.

After they had all finished eating and handed back their bowls, the group soon fell into a comfortable silence as those around the cheerful fire went about whatever it was that they had been doing, some smoking, some talking, while others busily cleaned their weapons and mail. Kaya was focused on mending a large rip in her mother's tunic as Lady Frar finished sharpening her knife and started on her battle-axe, on the other side of the fire Notch, the storyteller finally called it a night and moved back to curl up with his sleeping family.

With a face cracking yawn, Gimli stretched his arms above his head before flopping back to lay with his head pillowed on his large hands, turning his gaze up to the heavens, while Finn and Ginnar set about rebraiding their red beards as Dolgthrasir polished some of the beads in his intricately braided hair and Draupnir rewrapped his face with his red scarf. It was during this quiet time that the soft sounds of Elvish singing drifted up to them from the direction of the Wood-elves' camp.

It was a sad mournful song sung by many silvery voices, and though they knew not the words, their meaning was clear. For the flowing song seem to reach into the hearts of any who heard it and draw out the sadness and longing within.

As Gimli lay back and listened, ignoring the cool ground and the prickle of small stones digging into his bare back, he watched the dazzling stars above, his thoughts drifting once again to the past. The warm presence of the dog laying next to him strangely comporting, the smell of fire and burnt wood still clinging to its fur. In his mind he saw the faces of friends and loved ones alike appear before fading away and he felt his heart constrict in sorrow, knowing that they were gone now and he would never see them again. As the delicate Elven singing continued almost as if in tune with the stars glittering above, Gimli couldn't help but wonder what his family and friends would all think if they could see him now…

When the singing finally drifted to an end there was almost a feeling of wistful disappointment and even a few sad sniffs to be heard in the following silence, only the crackling and occasional pop of the fire to be heard.

"That was wonderful…" murmured Kaya, looking wistfully up into the night sky above them, a few of the others giving agreeing nods. The needle and thread still in her unmoving hands, her movements stilled in the wake of the enchanted singing. "I wonder what they call that song?" She mused aloud to herself before going back to what she was doing with a sigh. Next to her Gimli sat up again and ran a broad hand through his long thick hair before taking a folded bit of cloth from one of the hidden compartments on his belt and began to polish his axes, starting with his single-blade axe. As he carefully inspected the blade for any damage, the dog beside him scratched at a stubborn itch on it's neck with a back foot.

"Its called… 'It's Midnight in Mirkwood and I Can't Get My cock Outta This Tree'," cracked one of the FireBeard brothers after a few moments, causing everyone around the fire to bark in laughter again.

It was then that another small group of Dwarves arrived out of the darkness. Leading the group of four were two warriors, one was broad shouldered but slim in build compared to the taller Dwarf at his side, who was built like a muscled juggernaut, bigger then even Lady Frar. Both had finely wrought weapons, as well as armor and mail, the slimmer carried a sword and heavy lance, while the larger carried several axes including a massive battle-axe on his back. The two behind them were younger and dressed in simple traveling clothes and hoods, both clearly not warriors compared to the first two.

The slimmer of the two warriors gave a silent greeting, motioning with a elegant move of his hand if they could join their camp, this request was directed at the white-haired Vestri and the Lady Frar. Being the eldest Dwarf and the eldest female there it was up to them if they would share their fire.

Vestri only gave a grunt and waved them welcome, the Lady Frar gave them a long once over then also inclined her head in welcome before going back to puffing on her pipe as she sharpened her axe with a black whetting stone. Draupnir and his brother scooted closer to Gimli as they made room for the new comers. With that they dropped their packs and the two younger Dwarves gratefully flopping down, throwing there hoods back and allowing the warm fire-light to illuminate their young smooth faces. Gimli guessed that they were both only a few years younger then him.

The slimmer of the two warriors took off his helm and out tumbled a long glorious main of deep blue hair that shined iridescently in the light and a smooth striking featured face with slanted indigo-colored eyes that spoke of a mischievous and mellow personality. If Gimli was considered extremely handsome and striking, then this Dwarf could only be called beautiful. And to add to this he had even shaved part of his beard leaving only the hair framing his full-lipped mouth, his thick mustache and beard delicately braided with blue glass beads. His cheeks and the sides of his jaw naked and smooth, which was very daring for the neck and the underside of the jaw were both erogenous zones for Dwarves. For him to have shaved it and bare that naked skin, it was like a human woman wearing a high skirt above the knee or a plunging necked blouse that showed off a good portion of cleavage. His mate was far less attractive, making up for his looks with his size and battle prowess.

It was understandable that the larger chestnut-haired male was a bit possessive, for he had also removed his heavy helmet and had been in the process of taking his thick gloves off when he noticed the sudden silence and many of the admiring looks aimed at his blue-haired mate. He let out a deep rumbling growl as he glared heatedly at all those around the fire, the hard look of warning on his broad-featured face let all know that they wouldn't live long if they tried anything. His mate on the other hand only rolled his indigo eyes and gave him an exasperated glare.

Even Lady Frar and Vestri made a point of looking away as a show that they had no intentions of challenging his claim. This was one of the few rights that a male could openly challenge a female or a Dwarf of any rank to.

After they had settled down, the four of them gratefully excepted an offer of coffee from Har, the large chestnut-haired warrior introduced himself as Bruni, son of Brom, and his attractive mate as Nyrad, son of Nyad and the other two who were called Nur (who was Nyrad's younger brother) and Skafid (who was one of Bruni's young cousins). After the introductions things settled down again as people went back to talking. Non here bothered to ask where everyone was from or why, it simply being unimportant, the only thing mattering was that they were here now at the start of a new beginning at the Lonely Mountain.

Gimli finished polishing Fire Reaper before putting it back then reached behind him and brought forth Blood Screamer, his double-bladed battle-axe to inspect. After checking the leather wrappings on the thick haft he then moved on to inspect the wicked crescent blades, miraculously finding no nicks or damage before he set about polishing the broad blades that gleamed red in the fire light.

"Is that axe… The axe I think it is?" Bruni suddenly gasped, catching sight of Gimli's axe from where he sat, dark eyes wide with surprise at seeing such a legendary weapon.

"Aye! Your eyes don't fool you. That be Blood Screamer alright," Lady Frar said around her pipe. "The handsome lad here be all that's left of Nei's blood."

"Mahal be damned! My father told me of that axe, the sound of it. I knew I had to have heard that axes' wail during the battle! Thought I be losing me mind for awhile there," The large warrior said with a shake of his head as he looked at the young Dwarf holding said axe, who had paused in what he was doing and looked back at him with a unreadable look on his smooth tanned face.

"Oh Bruni! Don't be silly, my love. You lost that years ago!" laughed the blue-haired Nyrad next to him, not having been paying attention and catching only the tail end of what the big Dwarf had said.

"Quiet you!" Bruni rumbled, turning to glare at his chuckling mate. Who only batted his cat-like eyes prettily before leaning forward to playfully nip the tip of his hawkish-nose with a sultry smile. Bruni just snorted as he turned back to the fire with a shake of his head before reaching up to rub his nose as Nyrad chuckle softly. Bruni seem to ignore his playful mate who now happily leaned against his side, chin resting on his broad shoulder.

"You take good care of that axe, lad!" Ordered Bruni, giving Gimli a sharp nod of his head. Which in turn caused Gimli's gut to guiltily clench as he remembered the pressing absence of his other missing axe as he finally put Blood Screamer in it's holster behind him. Next to him the dog gave a big toothy yawn before resting it's warm head on Gimli's leg and without a thought he began to idly stroke the dog's head, it's dark eyes closing in contentment.

It was then that Bruni seem to remember something and put his cup of coffee down, he said something to Nyrad before they both got up to get something from one of their large packs. They soon returned with two large dry-smoked racks of cow ribs to generously share with everyone still awake around the fire. Apparently they had meant to only bring one, but Bruni's cousin had conveniently slipped another rack into their pack of supplies before they left their home. A cheer of praise went up from the other Dwarves as the big warrior began to break the two racks apart with his hands while Nyrad passed around the separated pieces, two ribs per Dwarf. Most gave their deep thanks and praised the two's generosity as they excepted the treat, some saving theirs to share with their sleeping companions later. The quiet Thrin once again refused any food and Old Vestri graciously declined the offer with a wave of his hand before going back to sipping his tea, while Gimli, Draupnir and Dolgthrasir eagerly excepted. The dark and hardened jerky-like flesh on the long white bones would have been near impossible for an ordinary Man to eat, but it was no problem for Dwarves with their strong teeth and powerful jaws.

Gimli would have eaten both ribs had it not been for the soft wine from next to him, a brief glance down and he was confronted by a pair of big pleading eyes. This was just another reason why he didn't need a damn dog around he silently thought to himself as he glared down at the oblivious and still pleading mutt. Still, the scruffy dog was clearly as hungry as he, so with a roll of his dark eyes Gimli gave the dog the other rib which was happily excepted. As he began to eat his own piece, he was a little surprised when the dog didn't run off with his prize, but instead stayed next to him and worried his bone between his paws. All too soon they had both stripped the curved bones clean. Gimli wistfully gnawing on his bone for long minuets after, his belly still grumbling with hunger pains as he finally gave the bone to the dog next to him, who still happily chewed on his own.

Next to him Kaya and Lady Frar also had excepted some meat, but ate theirs at a much more sedate pace then Gimli and his four-legged companion. Draupnir and his brother had saved theirs for later, while Fin and Ginnar ate theirs immediately, amusing themselves after words by seeing who could break the bones into smaller bits before tossing them into the flames.

"Oy, Nur! Get me another piece of meat will ya?" Skafid said lazily, as he watched the younger blue-haired Dwarf scramble up to get something from their packs.

"I'm not your servant! Get it yourself, ya lazy shit-head!" Nur snapped, turning to glare at the other. Both Nyrad and Bruni didn't even bother to turn around, both having matching pained looks upon their faces. They knew all too well what was going to happen next, having seen many similar incidents like this start at home and on the long journey to the Mountain.

"Wha!" Skafid yelled incredulously. "That's it! If you don't be gettin' me another rib, I'm going to shove this up your winy little ass!" He growled, holding said chewed on rib threateningly.

"I think ya just want to get your hands on me ass!" Nur accused, hands clenched into fists while glaring down at the still seated and now irate Dwarf.

"Don't project your disgusting fantasies on me, you little pervert!" Skafid snapped, shooting to his feet in insult before bouncing the bone he held off Nur's forehead.

"Why you--!" Needless to say the fight was now officially on and it was not long before they where both rolling around on the ground, throwing wild hits as they growled and cursed one another. Luckily neither was a skilled fighter in the least, so there was not much chance of serious injury, most of the others around the fire simply tuned them out.

Unfortunately the battling duo accidentally rolled into Bruni's back, causing the large Dwarf to spill some of his coffee just as he was about to take a sip and in turn spilling the hot liquid on his beard and down his front. Apparently that was the last straw for him.

"Are you two quite through! I'm getting sick of hearing your little unrequited love affair back there!" snarled Bruni in irritation as he wiped at his front and beard before fixing the two behind him with a glare. The two younger Dwarves immediately froze in shocked disbelief. Both Nur and Skafid then looked at one another before they quickly separated from one another as if they had suddenly been burned, matching looks of disgust on their faces. With a satisfied snort Bruni turned back to his coffee and took a long calming sip of the hot bitter liquid in blessed silence.

"Hmmmmm." Nyrad mused aloud to himself after a long pause. "Its awful quiet back there… Are you two kissing?" Nyrad asked as he looked over his shoulder at the two behind them, a smirk on his lips.

"Shut up, Nyrad!" Grumbled Nur, turning to glare daggers at his older sibling.

"Ya! Shut up," Skafid added, as Nur picked up and flicked a pebble at his brother.

"Oy now!" Yelled the older Dwarf, flinching at the sting of the small projectile. "Remember who is your elder, brat!" scowled Nyrad as he reached behind Bruni to swat at the two behind them. Both Nur and Skafid easily dodging his hand before Nyrad gave them both a warning glare and turned around again with a huff.

Meanwhile Lady Rin, after grooming her own graying feathers, set about fussidly preening Vestri's white hair as he lightly dosed, his back against the stone behind him, his cup of tea warming his hands. The fire casting deep shadows on his wise and deeply wrinkled face, his very presence seeming to have a calming affect on the others around the fire.

"Where are you going?" Kaya asked, when her mother finally stowed her whetstone and pipe and got up.

"Nothing like a battle to get the blood flowing. Now I'm in need of a good poke!" she said with a positively predatory grin, rolling her hips suggestively, her leather pants creaking with the movement.

"Mother!" Kaya admonished, rolling her eyes in exasperation and embarrassment at her mother's behavior.

Though Kaya was her only child, Lady Frar had no mate. Being Matriarchal and a society where children are so treasured it was rare, but not unheard of nor looked down upon, if a female were to bare children outside of marriage. It was simply her choice if she wished to have children with or without a mate. Lady Frar was just such a female, a warrior who had never found her 'one' mate, but had become pregnant after a brief and heated affair with a talented weapons-smith from one of the BlackLock clans in the Iron Hills.

"Any one here interesting in 'pounding the anvil' with me?" the big Dwarrow-Dam asked, looking at those around the fire and specifically at Griff and the larger males. "How bout you, Star?" She said all of a sudden, turning his way and in turn causing him to freeze and his eyes to snap wide as all the blood to drain from his face.

"I guarantee a night with me will add two inches to your beard, pretty boy," she purred, giving the handsome young Dwarf a suggestive look.

Gimli didn't doubt that as he looked up at her and contemplated making a run for it.

"Mother!" Kaya hissed again as she glared pointedly up at her mother next to him. Silently telling her that she had called first dibs on the copper-haired young male.

"Don't do it lad! A night with her and you'll wakeup looking like me!" warned Vestri, having awoken earlier and subtlety coming to his rescue. Everyone around the fire laughed and even Lady Frar herself gave a snort of amusement.

"Humph! So be it, your loss," she huffed good naturedly, as she repositioned the heavy weapons on her belt. "If ya need me, I'll be out chasing the beards!" She called over her shoulder before walking purposefully into the darkness, heading for the large encampment of Dain's army.

After she had left and the talking had resumed, Kaya subtlety scooted closer to Gimli, only the dog now between them. Gimli turned to look at her and watched the dark-haired an attractive young Dwarrow-dam flutter her eyes prettily at him, an answering smile curling his lips as he tilted his head ever so slightly and looked back at her with half-lidded eyes. Letting her know that he found her attractive too and with that they both turned back to the fire.

The flapping of wings announced the arrival of two new Ravens to their camp, causing a few of the Dwarves to momentarily look up. Lady Rin introduced the new comers in her high clipped voice as her first and second adopted hatchlings. Her smaller daughter Te, who had landed on the ground next to Vestri and her larger son Ty, who was now perched on the top of the stone watch-post above them.

"Mother! Vestri! I kill many, two ugly crows and four nasty leather-wings!" crowed the young bird in in a high reedy voice. The dark rust color still staining her elegant beak and feet speaking of her grim exploits.

"You are quite the warrior, young Te," Old Vestri praised as he reached up and gave the young Raven an affectionate scratch between the wings when she hopped up onto his other shoulder.

Meanwhile her brother flew down from the boulder to the old Dwarf's pack as those around the fire continued to talk. Hopping onto it, he skillfully undid the buckle with one foot and his beak with practice ease and pushed the flap open before disappearing into it. A moment later he reappeared with a small velvet pouch held closed with a red cord in his beak as Gimli idly watched from where he sat with his knees now drawn up, Draupnir and Dolgthrasir already laying down to sleep.

The young Raven quickly opened the pouch with his nimble beak, plucking a silver chain from it, much like the one his mother wore around her neck. Only instead of an opal, he had a bead of carved jade. With a jerk of his head the Raven slipped the chain over his head, adjusting the bead so it lay proudly on his breast. Then he synched the pouch up and put it away again, even buckling the healer's pack up again.

This behavior might have been surprising to a Man if they had seen it, but it was nothing strange or new to the Dwarves. The friendship between the Ravens and Durin's folk was strong and the Dwarves had long ago come to know of the Raven's sharp intelligence and wit. Soon after both Lady Rin's fledglings flew off to revel with some of the other Ravens from the Lonely Mountain, every now and then a distant cackle from the night sky sounded their amusements as they flew and dodged one another in the crisp night air. Lady Rin however stayed upon her ever present perch on Vestri's shoulder, clucking at the old Dwarf that he did not preen himself well enough to her liking as she fussed with his long snowy hair.

After a brief discussion as to who would be on watch that night, it being decided that Bruni would take first watch, followed by Griff and then the two FireBeard brothers, most of the others finally turned in. Some having a blanket while others simply curled up by themselves or cuddle up to their already sleeping companions on the ground.

Kaya wrapped herself in a thick brown blanket and gave Gimli a wink before laying down and curling up to sleep, Gimli wishing her a soft good night.

Nyrad, after sharing a few quiet words with his mate and a quick kiss got up and got three blankets from one of their packs, tossing both Skafid and Nur one before wrapping the last and largest about himself and laying down on his side behind Bruni. He had taken the largest blanket knowing that the large Dwarf would be joining him later.

"Give us a good night smooch, Nur!" Skafid snickered as the light-haired haired Dwarf lay down on Nyrad's other side.

"Eat dirt, fart-breath!" groused Nur, his voice muffled as he wrapped the coarse woven blanket around himself before flopping down to snuggle up against his elder brother's warm back.

Within a few moments only Gimli, old Vestri, Bruni and the silent Thrin still sat before the low burning fire, their features cast in its warm orange glow as the deep shadows danced around them.

Idly Gimli watched the large warrior carefully rewrap the thick haft of his axe with interwoven strips of leather, while Old Vestri dosed, every now and then sipping from his cup of tea as Lady Rin whispered into his ear. The hollow-eyed Thrin still slowly rocking as he caressed the damaged helmet, his dark eyes staring at nothing, lost in his sorrow as the crackle of the fire and the comforting creak of stretching leather blended with the sounds of the night around them.

From where he sat, Bruni watched the ragged young Dwarf with the dog give a big face-cracking yawn before resting his chin back down on his upraised knees. Seeing the half-lidded eyes and the clear exhaustion in his slumped shoulders.

"Sleep young one, I'll guard us this night," he softly said, laying his great axe across his knees. For a moment it seemed as if the young copper-haired male would argue, but apparently thought better of it.

Gimli silently nodded his head after a long moment before releasing his knees and laying down on the cool uncomfortable ground, his bare and scarred back to the fire. Tucking his knees and arms in close for warmth, he felt the warm furry weight of the dog curl up next to him by his shoulder. With a final look at the dazzling stars above, Gimli allowed his eyes to close, it was not long before the dark void of sleep claimed him.

So tired was he that he did not wake when Vestri, finally done with his tea, slowly got up with a pained groan and a few loud pops of his joints before reaching into his pack of supplies and brought out an extra blanket. He then walked over and laid the blanket over the exhausted young Dwarf and gave the dog that curiously watched him a pat on the head before both he and Lady Rin decided to join the others in sleep.

Going back to his spot Vestri took out his bedroll and another blanket, Rin patiently waited on the ground while the white-haired Dwarf wrapped himself in the warm green blanket and lay down on his bed roll. After he was settled and comfortable she gave a final stretch of her graying wings before she hopped up, puffing her feathers as nested down on his chest by his interlaced hands, her dark eyes finally closing. Leaving the guarding Bruni to smoke his pipe and watch the night.

It was an hour later when Thrin suddenly stopped rocking and got to his feet, then without a word the hollow-eyed Dwarf simply walked into the night, helmet in hand. Bruni silently watched him go, knowing instinctively that he would never see the sad warrior again.

-------------

The following day during the early light of morning in the middle of the Wood-elves' camp, a meeting was about to take place.

In the Elf King's royal tent there hung tapestries depicting rich forests and enchanted wood-land glens in wondrous detail, while lush green grass carpeted the interior of the large tent. It was here that an elegant throne of polished an interlaced wood sat as if some strange tree had grown and twisted it's branches for the single purposes of proving the Elven King with proper seat, while slender creeping vines and delicate flowers crawled up the elegant wooden throne. The plant life in the once barren landscape of the Dragon's desolation seeming to miraculously spring up and grow in the Wood-elves' presence.

It was on this throne that the noble and sun-haired Elven King sat, his long white and gilded sword at his side, a vision of power and elegance. His dark and sharp-eyed hunting hawk perched on the back of his throne as two slender-bodied hounds lay at his feet. His pale aristocratic face inscrutable, his dazzling sapphire eyes missing nothing as they swept the room, his sharp leaf-shaped ears hearing all as they waited for Dain to join them. Upon his golden head, his crown of leaves and berries had been replaced with a beautiful circlet of shining mithril, shaped like delicate branches intertwined with leaves of emeralds and white diamond blossoms. A silken cloak of shimmering green was draped over his broad shoulders, held with a round pearl clasp, clad in his newly washed and polished gold and green armor as his three sons and several of his top royal guards flanked his majestic seated form.

Their pale and delicately featured faces set in unreadable masks, seeming made of cool alabaster. All of them clad in fresh clothes, their long silken hair combed and shining. The three elegant Princes even wearing the delicate and seldom worn mithril circlets about their heads, stating their royal lineage. Caulndil, the eldest Prince was clad in shinning armor of green and gold like their father, while Valandil and the lithe Legolas wore the simple yet elegant garb of archers, their long slender legs clad in tall soft-skin boots, all three with emerald cloaks about their shoulders. They and the King seem to radiate a glow about them, all of them openly armed in an dazzling show of power.

Standing nearby and looking far less elegant, yet no less noble was Bard, still in the same clothes he had worn into battle the day before, flanked by two of his best men. His sword at his hip and the great bow and quiver still upon his back, the Elves still a bit stunned that this one mortal had single handedly brought down the Dragon-- with one arrow no less. Bard's similarly clad men, sifted uncomfortably on their feet, feeling uncomfortable and rather unnerved in the seemingly otherworldly presence of the Elves around them as they stoically flanked their noble leader.

Lastly there was the snow-haired Gandalf, clad in his ever present grey robes and tall pointy hat, his twisted wooden staff in hand as his other arm lay in a simple sling. He was there to act as moderator, personally knowing all those that would take part in this meeting. He stood near Thranduil's left with the King's dark haired and eldest son. Only Valandil, Thranduil's middle child inheriting his father's golden hair, the other two taking after their late Silvan mother.

The two hounds at Thranduil's feet suddenly picked up their heads and the other occupants of the tent turned their attention to the entrance as the tread of booted feet and the clink of heavy weapons announced the arrival of the Dwarven delegation. It was then that the striking and dark haired Dwarf King swept into the tent, flanked by two of his most trusted warriors. Unlike Thranduil's, his armor was still filthy and liberally covered in dried black blood, his heavy red battleaxe at his side, a round shield depicting a blazing sun strapped to his back with a crimson cloak about his shoulders. Once again all in the tent felt the power and majesty this Dwarf King exuded even despite the dirt and blood that still stained him, making him look like some primal Warrior God back form an invigorating battle. His long thick hair held back from his handsome face in a simple braid, his beard forked and braided. Perched upon his broad armored shoulder was Roac, the old Raven's sharp intelligent eyes missing nothing.

Thranduil's eyes narrowed a fraction at the sight of the old bald bird, instantly realizing how Thorin had been able to call for help so quickly or how Dain's army had come so prepared for war. The dark birds had no doubt acted as spies, keeping those in the Mountain abreast of what had been happening outside. He made sure to store this bit of information away for later.

Perched upon Dain's other shoulder was a large Thrush, who's head cocked and bobbed about, it's attention seeming everywhere at once as it fidgeted on the Dwarf King's shoulder. The dark and speckled yellow-breasted bird was clearly uncomfortable in the enclosed space of the airy Elven tent; the sight of the majestic hawk perched silently on the back of the Elf King's large chair did not help either.

For a long silent moment they all seem to size one another up, unlike Bard and his Men, Dain seemed unimpressed with Thranduil's show of force and seemed more interested in the interior of the tent, even giving a bark of amusement as he looked down at the lush green grass under his feet. He continued to look about in open appreciation, a smirk coming to his lips as he looked over the three silent Princes and the guards flanking the golden-haired Elf King, seeing it for the show it was before turning back to the matter at hand.

"Forgive my lateness, but I had several things that needed my attention in the Mountain. I also needed to fetch our friend here," He said in way of apology, a smile on his bearded face as he motioned to the fidgety Thrush who almost seem to look embarrassed just then.

"Dain, son of Nain. At your service," he said, giving them both a respectful bow. His men doing the same, but going down to one knee before standing.

Bard and his men gave him a deep bow in return, still a bit in awe of this being that was so different from his previous encounters with the silver-haired Thorin. It was only during the battle as their combined forces fought side-by-side that Bard realized the true foolishness of his previous words to Woodland King as they had watched Dain's army arrive before the battle. It was only now after being in his presence that Bard saw why this powerful Dwarf Lord was held in such fear and high esteem by Elves, Dwarves and Men alike.

Thranduil meanwhile remained coolly seated, head held high and proud, only respectfully inclined his head at Dain's bow, he and his people had much more at stake then Bard's. His actions against Thorin and his company in Mirkwood and later at the foot of the Mountain could come to a bad end if Dain wished to hold his cousin's grievances. After he had addressed Bard and the Woodland King, Dain then turned to the grey Wizard.

"Gandalf! As always, I am at your service!" He said with a big smile, giving the Istari a prim bow, his heavy chain mail clinking.

"And I at yours," Gandalf said with true warmth in his voice, a matching smile on his bearded and wizen face.

"I must say, my friend. It is good to see you in… relatively one piece," the Dwarf said with a warm laugh, giving the Wizard's slinged arm a rueful look. Gandalf just shook his head in amusement, the winkled corners of his twinkling eyes crinkling in humor.

"Well now! If the introductions are over, shall we commence with the matters at hand?" Gandalf offered, motioning to the middle of the tent with his staff to all of them.

For the next hour they discussed the pressing matter of the healing tents and the disposal of the bodies, the feeding of their men and what to do with the individuals caught looting the bodies of the fallen as well as many other matters that needed to be addressed. With that out of the way came the more important discussion of where the they all now stood, now that the battle was over and Thorin was dead, the prickly business of Smaug's treasure still lingered. Thranduil still sat regally on his throne and Gandalf sat near him on a simple chair that had been brought for him as they continued to discuss matters, while Dain and Bard stood with their men.

After they had all lapsed back into a long pregnant silence, Dain decided to take the initiative and turned to Bard. The tall Man of the Lake found himself caught by a pair of dark burning eyes, watching as the striking Dwarf came to him, stopping not four feet away. And though he stood a head taller then Dain, the Dwarf seem to tower over him.

"I and my people give you our deepest and greatest thanks, Bard Noble Dragon-Slayer!" Dain said in his deep voice before he thumped a heavy fist to his chest and gave the Man a reverent bow. Dain then held out his great arm to the human, a twinkle in his dark eyes and a smile on his face, a matching smile now curling Bard's lips as both he and the Dwarf tightly clasped one another's arm as warriors and in friendship.

"I do not break promises, and so as agreed by my cousin Thorin, the late King under the Mountain. The amount of one twelfth of Smaug's hoard as agreed upon and more-- is yours. As of now it is being delivered to your camp," Dain told him as he stepped back. "Also, an army of my finest builders is at your disposal," he pledged. Bard seeming almost stunned by this, so different was Dain from his previous dealings with Thorin.

"My thanks, Dain," he said, finally recovering and giving the King a thankful bow. "You honor me."

"Master Thrush?" Dain then said, raising a large gloved hand before him. Immediately the bird hopped off his shoulder and alighted on the thick hand to face the Dwarf King.

"We of Durin's folk also give you our deepest thanks," With that Dain bowed his head and the other Dwarves bowed fully to the bird, much to the astonishment of both the Elves and Men in the tent. Gandalf however only watched from where he sat with a knowing and pleased look in his ancient storm-grey eyes as he leaned on his staff, so far this was going better then he had planned.

The old Thrush closed it's eyes and bowed to Dain in return, then warbling something that made the Dwarf King smile and nod his head in answer to whatever the bird had said. Unlike Thorin before him and many of the Dwarves from the Blue Mountains, Dain and his people still knew the fast sing-song language of the birds. The IronHills still having a large flourishing population of the wise birds. With a final cheerful warble the old Thrush took wing and flew across the tent to Bard's shoulder. The bird then began to warble into the Man's listening ear, Bard tilting his head unconsciously as he intently listened.

The other Men looked confused and shot one another looks, not understanding the Thrush's language. Nor why the their leader, Bard, the Dwarves and the Elves all silently listened to this strange bird as if it was actually talking. _It was just a bird, right?_

It was not long after that that Bard excused himself from the meeting, his part already played. As he, his men and the Thrush still on his shoulder exited the tent, his was already deciding how he would split up the treasure and the preparations needed to begin the rebuilding of Lake Town and maybe even Dale itself. The Man was also no fool, deciding that retreating was the better part of valor, for he did not want to be caught between either Kings in the confrontation he knew about to take place.

From where he sat, Gandalf quietly watched Bard go, not blaming him as he turned to watch Thranduil and Dain finally face one another.

"It was an honor to fight with you as allies, Thranduil."

"As was with you, Dain," Thranduil agreed in turn, with a gracious nod of his golden head.

"I grew up with stories of your honorable sire, my ancestors that fought in the Last Alliance came home bearing stories of the ferocity of your father and his troops. His bravery is legendary in our stories."

Thranduil again graciously inclined his head at the pleasantries, but his flashing eyes remained cool and seem to stare right through the Dwarf before him. Dain had truly meant the complement, but he was careful not to mention that Oropher was also greatly remembered for his reckless and foolish pride. His story told as a lesson to young Dwarves not to let pride and foolishness rule their actions.

Dain then turned to one of the armored Dwarves flanking him and barked an order in Khuzdul, the red haired warrior immediately bowed and did as ordered and walked out of the tent. A moment later he returned leading many other Dwarves in, each carrying a large gilded chest that would have taken four strong Men to carry and sat them before the Elf King. The Elves and Gandalf silently watched as the quiet Dwarves and the many chests seem to fill up the space in the tent.

"Take this agreed upon portion of the treasure as my late cousin had agreed to and may we be allies in times of both need and plenty," Dain said graciously to Thranduil, gesturing with a powerful arm to the heavy chests. At this gesture the Dwarves that had carried them in stepped forward and opened the lids before filing out of the tent. Each chest was filled with wondrous treasure, with many white gems and jewels, including the dazzling emeralds of Girion that seem to flash with a fire all their own.

Thranduil could not help but lean forward in his chair as he looked down at the treasure sprawled before him. Yet it was not for greed that his pulse quickened and his eyes widened, for he did not see simple treasure to enrich his treasury, but a means to feed his people. A means to buy desperately need supplies and restock Mirkwood's almost bare armories, a means to help fortify them against their struggles against the darkness plaguing their forest.

However the easy look on Dain's handsome face shifted to became an unreadable mask, his dark eyes became hard, once more the fierce warrior King that they had all seen during the battle.

"I wish for us to be allies, King Thranduil. To work together, be it in trade or defense against the dark forces," he said in his deep rumbling voice, his eyes blazing with an unquenchable fire. His tone immediately causing Thranduil's gem-like eyes to narrow and for him to sit up in his chair, his sons stiffening behind him.

"Yet heed my warning and hear me well O' King Thranduil of the once great forest of GreenWood. Never again wrongfully threaten or bare arms against my people or our rightful home. Or I swear to you by my honor, blood and the Valar themselves. I will do Arda a favor and burn that dark spider infested wood of yours to ash and personally have your fair head upon a pike!" He said in a frightening voice that sent a shiver down everyone's spine, even Dain's own men that stood silently behind him.

With those words the temperature in the tent seem to drop as all those watching shifted uneasily as the tense silence lengthened, the falcon perched on Thranduil's chair flapped it's wings in agitation and gave a piercing cry. While Old Roac hopped off Dain's shoulder and onto the shoulder of one of Dain's guards, he was a wise bird and knew this could go badly. Only Thranduil himself seemed unaffected, glaring down at the Dwarf before finally rising elegantly from his throne to step forward, his green cloak rustling crisply against his green and gold armor as power seeming to build around him. The very air seeming to crackle with energy as the smell of loam and ancient forests filled the air as the Elf King seem to draw his magic about him like armor. All in the tent, including the old Raven Roac, who silently watched and Gandalf himself, who had gotten to his feet. All could feel the pull of it as small flashes of light seem to glitter around the tall Elf, his power building as he walked slowly towards the Dwarf like some great hunting cat.

"I would watch my words carefully Dain, if I were you," Thranduil said in a smooth voice, ripe with ominous promise as a strange wind seem to stir in the tent, the air becoming thick with strain. "For I and my people do not take kindly to threats," he intoned ominously, stopping mere feet from the silently watching Dwarf that seemed unimpressed with the desplay.

"I tell you no threats Thranduil, just a promise," Dain stated, not braking his gaze from that of the tall Elf King before him, matching Thranduil's hard piercing gaze with equal power. After what he had seen and witnessed in his long life it would take much more then Thranduil's anger and Elven magic to frighten or intimidate him. As Thranduil stood there before him, he saw this in Dain's unwavering gaze even as the Dwarf's thick braided hair and crimson cloak snapped in the invisible wind.

"By all your people and ancestors, hear me and hear me well," Dain continued in a voice that was truly frightening to hear. Gandalf could only watch with bated breath, his ancient eyes fixed on these two powerful beings, his hand clenched white-knuckled about his twisted wooden staff. Even Legolas and his elder brothers could only stand there with wide eyes, unable to move as they watched the stand off of these two veritable forces of nature before them, their delicate pointed ears listening to the words spoken now by this frightening and powerful Dwarf Lord.

"The carnage of this battle is nothing compare to what we have both witnessed in our lives. I battled seven long years, watching as over half of my people where slaughtered in our war against the Goblins and Orc," Dain continued, his gaze never wavering from Thranduil's flashing ones. "Think what you will of me and my people, Thranduil. I care not, live in your ignorance and bitter spite for all I care! But never threaten us again. For I will have not qualms utterly destroying you and your home if you ever harm or threaten my people _ever_ again."

Everyone in the tent seemed to be left frozen and breathless in the wake of Dain's dark words. As for Thranduil and Dain, the world seem to drop away, leaving only them standing there in front of the another. Neither backing down or giving an inch, their eyes locked together as they seem to silently speak to one another across the distance.

Dain meant every word and had the backing of one of the fiercest and best armed armies in arda to back it up. Thranduil saw this and was understandably livid at the open threat against his people and home. Yet as he stood there before this dark-haired and armored warrior so totally different from the pompous and foolish Thorin who had been dragged before his throne in Mirkwood a seeming a life-time ago. He could not deny, if rolls had been reversed he would do exactly the same if not more if he was truthful.

Suddenly the crackling tension and strange wind died away as if they had never been. For many long agonizing moments they stood there in utter silence.

"Your words are understood," Thranduil finally said, his voice as smooth as silk. The Dwarf respectfully inclined his head in understanding as all other beings in the tent seem to visible slump in relief. Including the Gray Wizard who closed his eyes and gave an audible sigh of relief, he even slumped unnoticed back onto his chair.

However both Thranduil's and Dain's guards gave noticeable starts, automatically reaching for their weapons when Dain suddenly thrust a seemingly massive muscled arm out to the tall Elven King, his large calloused and stone-like hand open. All those aside the two Kings again held their collective breath before Thranduil reached out a moment later to firmly take it. This was followed by another almost audible collective sigh of relief from all those that watched the two Kings firmly clasp one another's arms as equals and in friendship.

Two matching smiles of grudging admiration appeared simultaneously on their faces. If there was ever an Elf and Dwarf that were more similar, it was these two warrior Kings. Both fighters and powerful beings in their own right, both having to take over the unwanted and heavy mantel of rule after the devastating loss of their fathers in battle, their skill and might forged in the fires of battle and war.

"Now that that sober business has been addressed, let us look to brighter maters!" Dain suddenly laughed after they had stepped back from one another, now allies instead of opponents.

"Come, Thranduil! I have something to show you," he said, motioning for the Elf King to follow him as he walked out of the tent, his two warriors following.

Thranduil turned to share a questioning look with Gandalf and his three sons, a slender eyebrow cocked before he followed Dain outside, the others soon followed. When they were all outside in the sunshine they watched Dain, the old Raven back on his shoulder, pick up a small box that one of his guard's had been holding and hand it to Thranduil, who cautiously took it.

"To properly appreciate their true beauty, they must be seen in the light of the sun," Dain explained mysteriously as he stepped respectfully away after the tall Elf had taken the box. For a moment Thranduil seem to hesitate as he ran his long elegant fingers over the twisted silver vines and leaves that decorated the polished wood box.

"They would have been delivered, but it seems that they where a might delayed by an unexpected 'guest' to the Mountain that day," the Dwarf said ruefully, a note of sadness coming into his rich voice.

Thranduil undid the latch and opened the beautifully tooled box to reveal a delicate necklace of crawling gold vines with white diamond flowers and tear drop emerald earrings resting on a bed of dark velvet. The wondrous jewels flashing brilliantly, seeming to burn from within with their own blinding light, clearly destined to decorate the head and throat of a Queen. A lost Elven Queen of GreenWood, who would never wear them.

As Thranduil stood there silently gazing at the contents of the box, all the other Elves that saw what it contained dropped their eyes in remembered sadness, including Legolas who stood silently by Gandalf. His emerald eyes full of terrible remembered sorrow as he unconsciously lowered his gaze, his dark hair partly veiling his pale delicate face. After a long moment the golden-haired King turned to give the silently watching Dain a long searching look, the jewels he held casting prisms of light on his beautiful and aristocratic face.

Seeing the look, Dain only gave an good natured chuckle, a mysterious gleam in his dark eyes before simply giving the tall Elf a small bow. "If you'll excuse me, Thranduil. I must meet with the Lord of the Eagles and his people." Which was the only thing he said before turning to the Istari.

"Gandalf?" He motioned for the Wizard to join him, who gave a nod before doing so. Once again he was to play moderator, now between the Eagles and the Dwarves.

Without another word the striking Dwarf King turned and walked away, Gandalf and his guards following after. Leaving Thranduil and his sons to silently watch them march away, heading back to the Mountain that towered over them as the rest of the Elves in the sprawling camp quickly (and wisely) got out of their way.

Next Chapter: _Ok, it's going to be next chapter that Gimli and Gloin will be reunited, I promise!_

_This chapter was originally going to be part of a bigger one, but at the last minuet I decided to split it up (the chapter would have been too long other wise)._

(1.) Iglishmek the silent sigh language of the Dwarves.

(2.) This is just a little scene in homage to Salsify's great fic, "Dinner Guests"

(3.) "-they suffer toil and hunger and hurt of body more hardily then all other speaking peoples-" (pg.39. Ch.2 Of Aule and Yavanna, Silmarillion.)


	15. On Dark Wings

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 12a)

Author: Ro

Warnings: Some angst and dirty humor.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few of the original characters, all characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli in the year while he and Thorin's company were away on their Quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is based on the books, NOT the movies. I also dedicate this chapter to Little My, my wonderful acrobatic beta!

More notes: Again, this chapter has not been beta-read yet. So yes, there are LOTS of mistakes. Please bare with me.

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"On Dark Wings"

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Two days had come and gone in the Lonely Mountain before Thorin Oakenshield was finally laid to rest in his cold tomb of stone. The dark chamber was now empty, the funeral over, the mourners gone, leaving Thorin to rest in silence, the dazzling Arkenstone at his breast and the shining sword Orcrist upon his tomb.

After the somber ceremony, King Dain before Bilbo and all those gathered, again repeated the agreed dividing of the hoard. Though both Bard and Thranduil had already received their agreed upon shares.

"We will honor the agreement of the dead, and he has now the Arkenstone in his keeping." Dain said in his deep voice, now clad in immaculate and kingly garb of gold and crimson, his long dark hair clean and braided with many mithril and gold beads.

This was followed by the Warrior King giving his ultimate thanks to Bilbo, bowing deeply before him and pledging to him aid and ultimate friendship, offering the little burglar anything he would desire.

"This treasure is as much yours as it is mine: thought old agreements cannot stand, since so many have a claim in it's winning and defense. Yet even though you were willing to lay aside all your claim, I should wish that the words of Thorin, of which he repented, should not prove true: that we should give you so little. I would reward you most richly of all." He told the Hobbit reverently, bowing again to the flushed and abashed halfling, that stood no higher to Dain then a small Dwarfling.

In the end he would beg for Bilbo to take more then the two small chest of silver and gold the Hobbit insisted upon. But Bilbo graciously declined him, wishing for nothing more, just wanting to go home. The simple life of the Shire and his beloved Hobbit hole calling him home again, now that he had his fill of adventure.

It was later, in a much smaller ceremony that Fili and Kili where laid to rest next to Thorin. The brothers had been inseparable in life and so to in death they would lie together, side by side in one tomb. While the remaining members of Thorin's company had felt deep and true sadness at Thorin's funeral, their sorrow seemed ten fold as they lay the young princes to rest, their grief stricken faces stained with tears.

Like with all such great events, the news of the retaking of Erebore, the death of the Dragon and the following battle, spread throughout the land like wild-fire. And so it was not a day after the funerals that a strange Raven arrived, carrying news for Thorin from Ered Luin's court including grave tidings from the surrounding region. With Thorin and the two Princes next in line for the throne dead, it fell once again to Dain to hear the messenger.

Now, the day he was to finally open the Lonely Mountain to admit the many Exiles and Wanderers that patiently waited outside, found him in a dark mood. The dark haired and powerfully built Dwarf now sat, his head lowered, his massive arms clad in heavy mail resting upon the thick arms of the carved stone throne, his great red battle-axe across his powerful legs, looking every bit the Warrior King. His burning eyes narrowed as he brooded over the dark news that had just been relayed by the tired, yet dignified Raven that now perched on the raised forearm of the silent guard standing next to his throne. By the bird's smaller size he was not one of the Ravens that lived around the Lonely Mountain, but one of those that lived in the Blue Mountains.

Aside from her demand for the status of the Mountain and Thorin's company, Lady Dis' news from the Blue Mountains was grim. More of their kind and many other innocents were dead at the cursed claws of the goblins and orcs, betrayed once again by the greed of Men. It made his blood boil, Men, their race was so strange! They could be so brave and honorable, like Bard and others-- yet so many more where simply weak and greedy, ruled solely by their own wants and base desires. As for the orcs and goblins he only wished that there had been even more of the twisted and evil creatures that he could have felled with his axe. Once again Dain found himself the victor, but feeling as if he clutched nothing but a handful of bitter ashes.

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Must all my people's victories be tainted by sorrow?" He mentally cursed Mahal and all the Valor, the leather of his thick gloves creaking with the crushing grip he now had upon the armrests of the throne.

"My King?" Came a voice, shaking him from his dark thoughts, his grip automatically loosening at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Yes, Laina?" he asked, looking up at the armored and red-haired Dwarrow-dam standing nearby. She was one of his best warriors, military advisors and drinking partner. She was also his cousin and closest companion, the two of them having been together since they were children and had been at one another's side for every battle and adventure since.

"If you would allow me," She asked, coming forward and dropping to one knee before him. "You have many other tasks to attend to my King. With your leave, I will take the messenger and brake the news to Thorin's company." She looked up and they both gazed at one another across the space, a silent communication between them, no words needing be uttered.

Above all others Dain valued her thoughts and advice the most, the two holding a deep bond. Only Dain's Queen, the elegant Lady Dradiss could account herself closer to Dain that Laina, and even she was rumored to hold a deep jealously of the ruby-haired warrior.

He flashed her a thankful look before nodding his permission, once again grateful to have her along as he watched her stand up again. He made a mental note to himself to see if he could procure a bottle of Elven wine from the Wood-elf's camp for when they were alone later that evening, able to finally relax and talk freely. Personally he preferred ale, but she had developed a taste for the watery stuff on one of their travels through Lindon, disguised as simple envoys many years ago. The snobbish Elves that had barely tolerated their prescence having no idea that they addressed a King and his closest companion, it still made he and Laina laugh.

Dain turned to the bird patiently perched on the arm of the statue-like guard next to his large carved stone throne, silently motioning for the messenger to join his second lieutenant. With a bow of it's head the Raven took flight and landed on Laina's broad armored shoulder. With that she gave the Dwarf King a bow then turned sharply on her heal and marched out of the echoing chamber, her heavy boots clicking smartly along the polished marble floor.

After the massive doors had shut behind her, Dain turned his dark gaze to the cavernous and gilded throne room around him with its massive and intricately carved pillars of red marble and the huge stone relief depicting the creation of Middle-earth decorating the vast walls. At the five main corners of the room stood towering sculptures of great warriors from the past, three males and two females, partly armored, rendered in jaw dropping detail, seeming to hold up the massive room itself. When it came to the art of sculpture none could surpass the Dwarves, famous for their "living-sculptures" that seemed as if they would be able to draw breath and move at any moment, their stone eyes seeming to eerily follow one about. The high dome above was inlayed with dark blue stone, incrusted with many brilliant jewels that flashed like so many stars in the night sky. His elite royal guards stood like silent statues in their flashing armor and weapons, flanking his throne and other strategic points around the cavernous room. Most of the debris and charred bones had been cleared, though many scorch and claw mark still defaced the walls and pillars, they would be fixed and cleaned in the coming days. A few crystal lamps that they had managed to salvage illuminated the massive room, while the foul reek of dragon still permeating the air, a constant reminder of the Lonely Mountain's previous resident.

Dain then looked at the ancient red axe that resting across his knees, absently running a gloved hand over the wicked crescent blades and the tight leather wrapped haft. Remembering the day he had taken up his father's beloved weapon after watching in horror and rage as his father was killed by Ozog's filthy hands. Now once again he found himself with another unwanted crown, a crown meant for his cousin.

Dain the IronFoot, hero, King of the Iron Hills and leader of one of the mightiest armies of Middle-earth, now found himself the newly crowned King under The Mountain… and wishing for none of it.

He had never wanted any of this, never desiring the unwieldy mantel of power. In his heart he was nothing but a simple soldier by nature, a warrior who wished for nothing but for his people to prosper, a full mug of good ale with his friends and his family to be happy and near, with plenty of orc necks to test the sharpness of his axe with. But no matter the conflicts of his heart; his deep desire for a simple life, he would not shuck his duty. In the end Dain's ultimate loyalty was not even to himself, but to his people and if it was needed he would move the very heavens themselves with nothing but the might of his bare hands if there was need. And Valar help any Orc, Man, Elf or Dwarf that got in his way!

In the cavernous room it was deathly silent and none save the silent guards saw the mighty Dwarf King slump in his cold throne of stone and tiredly lay his head in his hand as if the weight of arda it's self had doubled upon his broad shoulders. If one were to see him then they would not see the powerful and charismatic Dwarf King, but instead a tired and weary soldier.

All hail Dain the IronFoot, reluctant King Under the Mountain…

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In a echoing hall that splintered off in three directions from the massive treasure room where Smaug had slept not days before atop his horde, Gloin and Oin wandered about. Both making sure stay out of the way of the busy Dwarves that worked to clear away the worst of the grisly remains, scattered debris and filth from Smaug's long occupation. The massive and heavily fortified doors that had once barred the way to the high ceiling treasure room, as well as many of the other large doors that lead to the other larger halls and chambers had been splintered and destroyed by the Dragon. Some of the smaller halls and passage ways where the worm could not fit had been clawed and scorched black by Smaug's fiery breath as he tried to get at the many frightened Dwarves that found them selves trapped within.

After the Dragon had first come to the Mountain, it took Smaug a week to track down and kill or eat all of the remaining trapped Dwarves that tried to hide. Those he could not snap up with his snout or claws because of some narrow crevice or small passageway, he burned, letting a deadly belch of flame through what ever pitiful hiding place the survivors tried to huddle in.

Now that the Dragon was dead and the Mountain won, the dazzling glow of gold and jewels within the open treasure room had ceased to grab Gloin and Oin's awestruck attention as it had done so many days before. Now back in their worn and dusty traveling clothes and hoods, their spirits once again lifted in anticipation for what the future might hold, though both were still very sore. Especially Oin, who's wounded shoulder pained him badly. Yet the wound was healing well and the brothers now spent much of their time exploring, marveling at the awesome architecture around them. Both having been unable to truly appreciate it before, scared and worrying that Smaug would discover them and eat them, then later being preoccupied with the battle. Both had almost forgotten what it was like to be in a proper Dwarven kingdom, so long had they wandered under the sky and lived in poverty, the halls of Ered Luin seeming paltry and small in comparison. But now everything seemed bright, even though only a few torches and lamps illuminated the various halls and chambers, most of Erebor's grandeur still cloaked in shadow and darkness.

Taken by a thoughtful mood after Thorin's funeral, Gloin thought about their leader's strange behavior and how he had fallen so quickly under the gold-sickness. How the silver-haired Dwarf had became obsessed with the Arkenstone and the rest of the treasure, changing from the pompous, yet good King they knew-- to the hoarding and ill-tempered stranger they had suddenly found in their mists.

Later as he sat on large chunk of stone ruble that had once been part of a large sculpture, Oin sitting on the ground at his feet while Gloin brushed and braded his long inky hair, he got to thinking about Thorin's character. Thorin Oakenshield had many noble qualities, all in all he was a good ruler and he truly cared for his people, pulling his weight and not afraid to get his hands dirty. He was of the LongBeards and was of noble blood, his family hailing from the line of Durin. He was a blooded warrior, skilled with knife, bow, sword and axe, and had a sharp mind. Meeting challenges head on, having earned his title Oakenshield at the battle of Azanulbizar.

The silver-haired Dwarf was also quite full of himself, overly prideful and was a well known blow-hard. But there was something else under all that haughty pride that he and all his siblings had in excess, there was something darker. Ever had Thorin been unhappy, seeming unable to except his lot. Always acting like he was some gilded emperor, nose in the air and full of puffed up pride even as he slogged through the mud like the rest of them, like some golden King that had somehow found himself forced to rule a paltry kingdom of mud and dust.

Even when he and his family became better off, living in the relative comfort and ease of ruling Ered Luin, while so many others such as Gloin's family lived in depressing squalor and back braking poverty. It never seemed enough somehow. Thorin's eyes always seemed far away, always looking back to the glorious past. Defiantly unwilling to admit his clothes were stained with mud and his hands with dirt, unwilling to admit that King or no, he was nothing more then just another dirty Naugrim to the eyes of Men and Elves that looked down upon them. Always was there a tension with Thorin, a need for better... more

There was also a deep bitterness there, like he still couldn't believe he was in exile. Maybe it was because he did remember the grandeur of Erebor when he was a child, his younger brother and sister too young to really remember. So terribly different from the surroundings he now found himself in, unable to understand how so many of his people could take a small measure of pleasure in a simple chipped mug of watery ale shared with friends or of eagerly excepting the meager copper shillings they had earned for weeks of back-breaking labor down in some dark coal mine. The joy of sharing a fresh loaf of bread with ones family, of being able to buy a new pair of shoes or a warm blanket. Ignoring and enduring the ever present taunts of those that looked down upon them in disgust. "Greedy Naugrim! Dirty Dwarves! Job stealing dirt-rats! Stubborn Naug! Gold grubbers! Beggar-beards!"

Like Thorin, many Dwarves did not like their fate and desperately wished for better, but unlike he, they endured what they must, trying to make the best of what little they had. But not Thorin, he had never been able to do that.

In a way Thorin took it personally, as if the Dragon had come solely to take away _his_ birthright, taking all that had been rightfully _his_. Making he, a Prince into nothing but a wandering peasant, his people homeless and while compared to many Thorin and the rest of his family did well for themselves, eventually coming to rule the Mountain halls of Ered Luin. It was never enough.

For Thorin would find himself many years later the exiled King of an exiled and impoverished people, his grandfather murdered in Moria, his father tortured to death in Dol Guldur, the last of the Seven Rings stolen and half his entire race dead from the Great War (1.). How the bitterness grew in Thorin's belly.

Perhaps having come so far, having finally regained what had been thought impossible, all that he had ever dreamed of and had wished for, finally back in his grasp- he became dangerously possessive of it. In his mind as he stood there looking down at them, maybe Thorin hadn't really seen Bard or the Elf King's emissary below wishing to parlay those days ago before the battle. Maybe in his mind he saw not Men and Elves, but more dragons come to take what he believed was his. Causing him to snap and lash out at friend and foe alike if any dare speak of taking or sharing any of what he deemed was his!

_Would things have been different if Thorin hadn't let his foolish pride and selfishness get the better of him? Could the battle have been averted-- would young Fili and Kili still be alive if Thorin hadn't fallen under the Dragon's spell?_

As Gloin thought of Thorin's behavior it made the raven-haired Dwarf snort and sadly shake his head as he finished braiding Oin's shiny black hair. Changing spots with his brother, he realized how heavy his own many pockets were, filled with the gold and jewels he had managed to stuff into them days before. Like most of the Dwarves of Thorin's company, after cautiously and fearfully following their burglar into the massive room, both he and Oin had rushed to fill their pockets with jewels. Yet unlike Thorin's and Bilbo's thinking, he and the other Dwarves hurriedly filled their pockets thinking that if they managed to escape the Mountain and the Dragon, they might be able to go back to their families with something. For at that time few of them actually believed they could take back the Mountain, even as they hide and cowered, trapped within the Mountain itself, thinking Smaug would come back and finish them off at any moment.

But where before the treasure seem to comfort Gloin, the merry clinking of it pleasing to his ears-- now it seem to weigh on him terribly. The thought of having anything in common with that mad gleam of the gold lust he had seen in Thorin's overly bright eyes, made his stomach roll. So it was that after Oin had finished braiding his hair into a long tail, he got up and wandered back to the massive treasure room, his brother following. The heavily armed sentinels that now guarded the room allowing any of Thorin's company to come and go as they pleased. Dain having ordered all his soldiers and guards to give them free rein. So with the occasional good-natured ribbing and heckling, they where (for the most part) left alone and many times simply ignored by the various warriors.

It wasn't until Gloin had stopped in the center of the massive room that had served as Smaug's bedroom, standing atop one of the tall hills of treasure, he began to empty out his many pockets. With each coin and jewel that merrily clattered with the rest at his feet, Gloin found himself feeling lighter, both in body and spirit.

Oin, who had watch him in total confusion, not understanding until his brother finally turned and shared his thoughts of the treasure and Thorin. It was not long after that that Oin happily began to do the same, even going so far as to take out two small gold beads he had braided into his shiny black hair. With matching smiles, safe in the knowledge that they were guarantied a safe and secure home, as well as a portion of the treasure, the brothers stood there free of any burden, feeling oddly pleased with themselves.

That was until Oin, feeling suddenly playful and in the mood for some mischief, promptly shoved his elder brother off the mound of treasure.

"Now I am King of the Mountain!" he crowed. Standing triumphant with a devilish grin upon his smooth face as Gloin tumbled down the mound of treasure with a loud clattering avalanche of coins and jewels. Oin's triumph however was short lived as he gave a yelp when he looked down and saw his elder brother charging back up the hill. Needless to say the younger Dwarf raced away, his long black braid whipping behind him, unable to stop his laughter with a growling Gloin in hot pursuit.

If Bilbo or any Elf or Man had been there they would have been stunned two see two grown Dwarves running around and acting like children. The two soldiers that guarded the entrance to the massive room holding heavy lances, watched in silent amusement along with a few of the other Dwarves that just happened to be there. The brother's chase finally came to an end when Gloin managed to corner his smaller and faster brother and get him in a headlock. Followed by giving the struggling Oin the torment of all younger siblings as he rubbed his knuckles mercilessly on the top of his brother's head, that had poor Oin squirming and pleading (2.).

The only thing Gloin did keep from one of his pockets was a small fire-stone earring he had found. For some reason finding himself unable to part with it, no doubt it's twin was somewhere within the very chamber amongst all the other treasures. His beloved Nei had loved fire-stones, when she had lived she wore a large polished fire-stone set in a thick collar of interlacing knots of silver about her throat. He remembered how he had made it especially for her when he was still courting her (3.), to this day it was one of his greatest masterpieces. Before she had died, she told him to take it and not burn it with her body, instead she bequeathed it to their last remaining child, telling her husband to wait until Gimli had reached his first one hundred years before giving it to him.

True to his word, Gloin had carefully kept it hidden and safe until it was time to clasp it around Gimli's neck. But for now he found himself holding the small fire-stone earring, once again painfully feeling the absence of his mate at his side. He knew he should put it back, it was only one earring after all, not even a proper pair. Knowing she would never be able to wear it, her body long gone, nothing but a simple earn full of ash in her tomb, yet… He was simply unable to make himself part with it, instead he kept it in his pocket, taking it out every now and then to gaze at it. Sometimes he could imagine a small flame dancing within the blood-red gem.

Balin and Dwalin, who had also happened to be in the chamber, debating over the age and possible artist of an ancient Elven vase they had found (both the white-haired Dwarf and his blue-haired brother where scholars as well as teachers), saw what Gloin and Oin did. Upon hearing their reasoning's, they wholeheartedly agreed with their cousin's actions. Wanting nothing to do with the sickness and greed that had stricken Thorin. Sagely saying as they empted out their own heavy pockets, that they to would trust the wisdom of King Dain and his council to fairly divvy up their promised portions of the horde. _For now was the time of new beginnings. Not hording dragon infected gold_! Though they did scold their younger cousin's childish behavior afterwards.

Big and powerful Dori and Nori did the same later that day, though Ori only did so under protest and much grumbling. Like Gloin and Oin, Bifur also returned her share, emptying out her pockets after hearing about Gloin and Oin doing so, but Bofur and Bombur had staunchly refused. Calling the others fools, holding tight to their loot.

It just so happened that it was the same day that all the waiting Dwarves outside the Mountain were to be let in and the messenger Raven had arrived, that Oin and Gloin planed to go down to the abandoned living areas deeper in the Mountain to look for a possible dwelling that would fit their needs. The two brothers caring not for treasure, but for the simple want and seeming novel experience of having a place to call their own again. At the moment however they milled around the dark hall that intersected several other adjoining halls before the massive treasure room that the Dragon had used as his den. They and several others of Thorin's company, rested and fed, idly walked around and traded the latest news they had gotten from Dain's troops.

Their burglar however had spent much of his time after Thorin's death with Gandalf and the Elves, whenever there was a delegation of the fair beings in and around the Mountain. For whatever business, the little Elf-struck Hobbit seemed to tag along, almost seeming to purposefully be avoid his Dwarven traveling companions. Which happened to suite Gloin just fine, the cranky Dwarf having his utter full at the moment of the Hobbit's constant sighs and whining.

The two raven-haired Dwarves however stopped talking and looked up as King Dain's second lieutenant, the Lady Laina marched over to them, having come from the direction of the King's throne room. The sound of her boots seemed to echo in the dark hall as a messenger Raven rode upon her shoulder, her eyes telling all that she bore grave news.

Her long braided hair was a true blood-red, looking as if someone had crushed garnets and rubies and strung them into thick wavy hair. Which was a highly prized color, for while red hair is quiet common, especially in the various FireBeard clans, true blood-red hair was not. She also wore mithril beads in her intricately braided beard stating her high rank in the army, her shapely and muscular form clad in shinning armor befitting her station, a deep green cloak about her broad shoulders.

As she approached them, the brothers immediately lowered their postures in open respect. Dain might have given all of Thorin's company the title of Lords in honor of their achievement of their Quest, but it was in title only.

"Gloin, son of Groin?" she asked politely, having just come from speaking with both Balin and Dwalin, who now watched from nearby. Their good cheer now gone, both looking rather gray at what they knew the Dwarrow-dam was to tell Gloin and Oin, their countenance bleak as they stood there in the darkness of the hall.

"Aye, I am he," Gloin answered, taking as small step ahead of his younger brother, being the head of their family. "And this in my younger brother, Oin. Groin's sons are at your service my Lady," He said graciously as both he and his brother gave her a stiff, but respectful bow. She bowed in turn and waited for them both to straighten up again before speaking.

"I am Laina, daughter of Lain. King Dain has just received news from our brethren in the west. The Lady Dis of the Ered Luin's Halls has brought us news of a disaster that has befallen the towns and colonies of the Blue Mountains." At the mention of Thorin's sister's name both Gloin's and Oin's dark eyes narrowed, but otherwise continued to listen with trepidation.

"For some time chaos and rumors where the only things known, but several months ago a lone message come from the town of Telgor." It was then that she stopped and motioned for the Raven on her shoulder to continue.

"I am Wey, hatchling of Wenry. I have been dispatched by the Lady Dis's councilor, Frini son of Friri," he introduced himself, his voice croaking and clipped. Gloin and Oin said nothing, both of them seized by a cold chill as they stared at the dark bird, Gloin feeling the blood slowly drain from his face. For the next fifteen minutes they listened in sickening dread as the Raven told them his grave news.

"Only a few managed to escape to nearby towns like Harlond and Telgor, to send word," the bird continued flatly, his sharp black eyes flicking sharply back and forth between the brothers. Neither Dwarf being able to move or say a word as sharp fingers seem to wrap around their hearts.

"The Lady Dis sent out an armored force, but it and the two contingents of Rangers were far to late. Only being able to help the few survivors to be found. They did eradicate two small bands of goblins still roaming the area, but unfortunately the rest of the foul folk had already scattered and fled.

"Of Black Hallow, Turquoise Hill, Rangutch and Shiprock there is nothing left. They have been raised to nothing but ash." The Raven finally finished, his dark feathered breast heaving after speaking for so long.

"I am truly sorry for your loss, Gloin." Laina said, speaking up again.

But Gloin could not speak and stood there motionless, staring at her yet not truly seeing her. Oin beside him was not much better, his mouth opening and closing as if unable to find the words to say something.

"No, it is a mistake," Gloin then whispered in denial, shaking his head as he took a weary step back from her.

Nearby the rest of Thorn's company watched in hushed silence, the low burning lamp on the wall above them cast their faces into strange masks, their eyes glowing eerily in the dark. Balin and Dwalin also continued to watch from nearby, almost completely hidden in a deep shadow. After a few moments Dwalin whispered something into his brother's ear before he sadly wandered away to see if he could find Tharkun, leaving Balin there to continue to silently watch.

"Nay. As much as I wish it were so… Sadly, it is no mistake," the Dwarrow-dam said with a sigh, her eyes full of compassion, though her face was a mask of stone. "Of Black Hallow only five escaped the flames of the mine. And of those… only two made it to the safety of Telgor to tell their tale. A Svior, son of Svie and a Nidi, son of Esnire, were the only souls to survive that doomed mining town. Their three companions Hanar the Scarred, Ulfr, son of Ultrey and Gimli, son of Gloin escaped the fire… but did not escape the hungry claws of the pursuing orcs.

"Take heart in the knowledge that he died with honor," she added, even though she knew that it was of little consolation to one who had lost their child. She patiently waited for the two to digest what she and the Raven had told them, until she finally saw the true realization sink in, watching with the all too familiar look of loss enter their dark eyes, where moments before there had been disbelief.

"May your son have found his way to Mahal's great hearth and his ancestors welcome him. Deep peace of the quiet earth to you, deep peace to you , Gloin's son." She said reverently, her deep voice was almost a whisper as she softly recited the ancient Dwarven prayer.

Hearing it seem to drive a nail through the remains of Gloin's heart, causing him to almost stagger at the feel of it. The quiet blessing was the last thing Laina said before she gave the very still and quiet Dwarves a low bow, taking four steps back with her head still down, it was a bow of ultimate respect. The Raven perched on her shoulder also respectfully inclined his head, though he had to spread his wings to keep balance. She straightened up once again and thumped a heavy gloved fist over her heart, then turned and walked away, leaving them both to greave in peace.

For several long terrible moments neither moved, only able to stand there pale and wide-eyed, listening to the sound of her footsteps fading into the distance. In Gloin's mind suddenly came the memory of Rowel, the mine owner's spoiled son and his strange words to him that finally day in Black Hallow a seeming lifetime ago.

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Watching with narrowed and suspicious eyes as the tall attractive human with the immaculate white cloak about his shoulders, tossed his long wheat-gold hair before turning to look back at him, the ever- present smug smirk on his lips. .

"Pity. I was just thinking… It's a shame that you and your brother will not be here to take part in the upcoming festivities," the human said in a tone of mild disappointment before giving a shrug. With that the Man turned and strolled away, heading towards the tavern.

It was only now as Gloin now stood there, his face pale, his brown eyes lost, that he finally realized the terrible truth of Rowel's words. The terrible irony.

"I left Gimli there…so he would be safe…" Gloin whispered brokenly, his world feeling as if it was icing over as the remains of his heart shattered in his chest. "He is dead…I have doomed all my children--I've killed all my children as surly as with my own hand!" he cried, his hands coming up to fist his long dark hair.

He moaned from the agony in his heart, stumbling unsteadily over to one of the massive pillars as if for support. Oin followed without a sound, his hand clutching Gloin's cloak in numb shock. Most of the hall was still cast in darkness, only a few torches and lit lamps on the walls to guide the way. A small part of Gloin was thankful, the many shadows perfectly suited the darkness that now threatened to swallow him from the inside.

A memory came of looking back and seeing Gimli and his friend Ulfr standing on the top of a rise in the distance, watching him and the rest of Thorin's company walk away from that miserable gray mining town.

Unfortunately the next image that came crashing into his mind was of his eldest son, Daria and the last time he had seen him. Remembering the terrible day they had been ambushed by a raiding party of starved and half-mad orcs in the woods near Lindon. How the beasts had boiled up out of seeming nowhere, descending upon them and separating them in a dark tide. Hearing the deafening screams, the sounds of agony his eldest son had made over the roar and shrieks of the orcs as they desperately tried to reach him through the stinking and foul press of cold gray bodies. Never in his life had he so furiously fought, his knife covered in hot black blood as he and his brother fought to reach Daria, but they had been too late. So terribly late. Not even Nei and Gimli who tore into the orcs like demons could reach him in time.

It seemed like yesterday he had fallen to his knees next to his trembling mate, looking blankly at the remains of what had once been their child. Unable to comprehend what he was seeing…the pieces of him scattered about in the gore soaked grass. Daria, his first-born, to this day he could not understand why he had not the ability to cry out that day as he sat their numbly cradling his son's decapitated head in his arms. Staring down into his pale and ripped face, looking into those lifeless eyes that stared blankly back at him, unable to move. Listening to Nei's, Gimli's and his brother's howls of grief, listening to their screams of rage as they morbidly clutched and collected the various scattered parts of Daria as if they pathetically wished to try and somehow put him back together.

Was that Gimli's fate too? Had he desperately tried to fight them off until the beasts has simply over whelmed him, tearing at him with their clawed hands and teeth, ripping him to pieces even as he screamed and struggled?

It was all Gloin could do to stifle the scream of grief and rage that threatened to bubble forth as he put his face in his trembling hands. The thought of Gimli ripped to pieces, the hungry and greedy mouths of the Orcs painted red as they gleefully feasted on his child's flesh made him squeeze his eyes tightly shut in a futile attempt to block out the horrible images racing through his head as his mouth twisted into a sorrowful grimace. In the dark shadow of the massive pillar his legs suddenly had no strength in them and he sank heavily to his knees, taking his younger brother with him, who silently clutched his cloak like a small child scared of becoming lost. Oin unlike his elder brother however was unable to stifle the series of cries from escaping his tightly clenched teeth as tremors of grief began to rack his body, tears falling freely from his tightly clamped eyes.

Balin, who had kept a respectful distance while the messenger and Lady Laina told them their grim tidings, finally came over and tried to put a comforting hand upon Gloin's shoulder.

"Do not touch me!" He hissed, jerking away as if burned before his anger gave way once again to crushing sorrow. With an utter wariness of the world Gloin rested his forehead on the cold stone of the pillar he and Oin knelt before. None save Balin and Oin saw the tears that welled from his eyes like drops of liquid silver.

"By Mahal! He is gone… They-they are all gone… My beloved Nei, my beautiful mate… Daria, my earth, Mano… my little spirit. Sweet Minal, my daughter…my sky. Nin, my clever water, Now…Now Gimli, my last…My fire…my star. I have lost them all!

"I'm cursed!" Gloin finally cried, clawing at his black beard before casting his hood over his face, Oin only berried his tear streaked face into his brother's shoulder.

A little distance away near one of the only lit lamps in the otherwise dark hall, the small group of Thorin's remaining company had gathered. Including Bilbo, who had just toddled over to the group after following a small group of Thranduil's people about much of the day, drawn over by the activity.

"My word, what is going on!" The wide-eyed Hobbit gasped, coming to stand with the group, a few of them glancing down at him.

"Whatever is the matter with Gloin? He and Oin surly aren't fighting again, are they?" Bilbo asked, having no idea of what was taking place. A note of disapproval now in his tone as he squinted at the two by the pillar, just barely able to make out what was happening.

Having traveled with this unusual group of Dwarves, he had seen quite a few arguments and fights on his long journey with them. And though none of them were considered warriors in the least, they where all much stronger and bigger then poor little Bilbo, who had more then once been knocked over accidentally or brushed aside as if he weighed no more then a leaf. He was also all too familiar with Gloin's rather cankerous disposition and sharp tongue, which had been the cause of more then one of those fights.

"Shush!" Dori ordered. Looking down at the curly haired Hobbit with a glare before looking back at Gloin who was now leaning heavily against Oin, who held onto his older brother and was now babbling something to him.

Bilbo just gave Dori a confused blink before turning to watched Balin step away from the two strangely acting Dwarves and come over to the gathered group looking sad and weary.

"Oh, does this sadness ever leave us?" Balin was mumbling to himself, running a calloused hand over his face. Looking down and seeing the open confusion still on Bilbo's round face, he explained, giving his white beard a harsh tug. "In the mists of our joy we find ourselves once again saddened by grief. And so soon after laying Thorin, and Fili and Kili to rest…a sad day indeed! But I fear it is a sorrow that Gloin and Oin will find the hardest to bear." Balin said quietly to the Hobbit, a truly sorrowful look in his dark eyes.

"Sorrow? What do you mean?" Bilbo asked, still very much confused as he looked up with round eyes at the seeming hulking Dwarves around him. All the Dwarves of Thorin's party stood a good head or more above him (being a Hobbit and all), it was still a bit disconcerting being around so many of the Big People, and it was only worse being around the Men and Elves!

"A Raven has come bearing ill news from the Blue Mountains. Many are dead and their fate truly terrible for King Dain has not yet the will to speak of it," said Balin, his indigo-eyes shinning with unshed tears.

To Bilbo the white-haired Dwarf looked haggard as he watched Balin pull his red hood up and cast his kind face into shadow and walked back two the two grieving brothers. This time Gloin apparently excepting his comfort for he allowed the older Dwarf to pull him into an embrace.

"Gloin's only remaining son is dead," Bifur whispered to the stunned Hobbit with a sad shake of her head. One whole side of her face was still badly bruised having taken a glancing blow from a goblin's mace, her left eye however was no longer swollen shut, though it was bloodshot. The Hobbit still having no idea that the slender and smooth-faced Dwarf with only a long braided goatee hanging from her chin, was female.

Bombur, who had the injured Bofur standing next to him, sniffed and loudly blew his noise on a hanky, that Bilbo noticed with some annoyance was one of his. The fat cook couldn't stand Gloin's hyper fly-weight son, _disrespectful smart ass_, but even he didn't think the little shit deserved such a fate.

Bifur gave a sniff of her own before angrily wiping at a tear from the corner of her eye. _Poor Fili and Kili and now young Gimli. Why are so many of our young ones taken from us? Was this somehow in Mahal and Iluvatar's great plans? Did he not know that at this rate there would be none to continue on and pass their skills to? _She silently cursed to herself, biting her bottom lip as she looked in the direction of the mourning brothers.

"Gloin has children? Why I had no idea!" Bilbo finally said in astonishment, who was utterly shocked that the sharp-tongued and cranky black-haired Dwarf was even married, let alone had children! He suddenly felt rather embarrassed, realizing that he knew almost next to nothing of these people that he had traveled and been through so much with. Being thoroughly "Elf-struck" since Rivendell and preoccupied with his own worries and complaints.

"_Had_ children," Bofur corrected with a shake of his head, his light-brown hair held away from his round face in a simple pony tail. "Still it is not dignified to act so," he said, shifting to a more comfortable position as he leaned against Bombur's bulk before looking over his should with a disapproving look.

His dark-accustomed eyes watching as Oin now rocked his brothers' visibly shuddering form as Balin sat with them, softly saying something. Bilbo's vision however could only just barely pick out the dark shapes of the three grieving Dwarves, but the Halfling's sharp ears could easily pick up the sounds of their misery.

"Shut your face, Bofur!" Dori hissed from Bilbo's other side, deep warning in the large Dwarf's eyes. "You have never had children and you have never felt the crushing sorrow of their loss," He growled. His light brown eyes burning holes into the now contrite smaller Dwarf before he turned and stormed away from the group in disgust, heading away from the sounds of Gloin's and Oin's grief.

The group silently watched him walk away, surprised by the usually gentle and good-natured Dwarf's sudden change of behavior. As soon as Dori was out of sight, Bifur promptly reached out and smacked Bofur on the back of the head. Causing the other BroadBeam to yelp, then turn and giving her an innocent "_What_?" expression as he rubbed the back of his smarting head and in turn getting a glare of exasperation.

Dori meanwhile had not gone very far before he stopped and stepped into a completely unlit side chamber. It was with a tired sigh that he leaned his muscled back against the smooth stone wall, now partially destroyed and blackened by one of Smaug's destructive tantrums. Once within the safety of the darkness and free of watching eyes Dori put a dirty broad hand to his face and bowed his head, his tired light-brown eyes closing as he remembered his own heartbreak. He knew all too well what Gloin was no doubt feeling right now.

For he too had lost his children and mate. His two little boys, his black-haired Drori and ginger-haired Ari. The loss of them as fresh now as the day he held their small lifeless bodies to his chest, his cries mingling with his mate's broken wails that terrible day.

The searing loss of their children driving his poor beloved Ola to throw herself from a cliff five days later. He found her boots and gloves set in a neat pile next to the edge of the precipice, as if she had taken them off for a short swim. Only the intervention of Ori and Nori had prevented him from trying to join them in Mandos' Halls soon after.

After four years the three big BlackLocks had moved to the farming town of Shiprock, making a living of hard and mind-numbing manual labor. Porting and unloading the heavy shipments from neighboring towns like Black Hallow, when he and his brothers were not stuck digging wells, ditches and graves. But for now the large Dwarf allowed himself to mourn not only for Gloin's wild hot-tempered son and all the good people lost in both Shiprock and Black Hallow, but also to finally mourn for himself and his own terrible losses.

They had done what was thought impossible. They had taken back the Mountain, Smaug was dead and the battle had been won! But for Dori and many others the victory felt hollow, Iluvatar's bitter curse to his unwanted children. For every victory… a terrible price.

In the depths of his shadowed corner, non saw the salty tears that fell like drops of silver to the dusty and cold stone floor.


	16. Reunion

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 12b)

Author: Ro

Warnings: Some angst and dirty humor.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few of the original characters, all characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli in the year while he and Thorin's company were away on their Quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is based on the books, NOT the movies. I also dedicate this chapter to Little My, my wonderful acrobatic beta!

More notes: Again, this chapter has not been beta-read yet. So yes, there are LOTS of mistakes. Please bare with me.

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"Reunion"

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Oddly enough, that very same day as his father and others mourned his loss, found the very much alive Gimli walking through the large camp of Dain's Army, still camped at the foot of the Mountain. At the moment he walked with Lady Frar and Kaya, the three of them making their way to the King's large tent, where all the lost Dwarven weapons found on the battlefield had been brought and laid out.

Gimli had ended up staying several days and nights with the small eclectic group of exiles and Wanderers camped behind the old stone watchpost. During that time only those in Dain's army and those with permission from King were allowed in, as the soldiers secured and cleaned out the worst of the Dragon's foul occupation. So during those days he and most of the other able bodied Dwarves and Men of the various camps had gone down into the valley to help clean up and remove the bodies.

It was a morbid race to burn and bury the many bodies before they began to rot, the fear of disease a very real threat to all. For though the Elven bodies if left out would simply fade into nothingness within a day or two, and the bodies of the Dwarves would not begin to decompose for many days to come, the many bodies of the orcs and goblins however seem to begin to bloat and rot within hours. The bodies of the Men where not much better, the warm sun over head was also not helping maters. The mourners of all races hurriedly searched and tried to identify the corpses of loved ones amongst the many dead, some managing to find the body of their spouse, parent, son or sibling, taking it away to hold their own cobbled together funeral arrangements. Unfortunately many bodies could not be identified, these poor beings along with the many severed limbs and larger bits of various bodies where interned in a large mass grave.

With the help of the Elves a grove of trees would be planted over the sight, in time the trees and vegetation would become wondrously lush and fruitful, full of flowers and singing birds. The valley too would become lush with green once more, but for now it was grim business, picking up the cold bodies of various Dwarves, Elves and Men and loading them onto the many over burdened death carts that rattled slowly around the desolate battlefield.

The following day Gimli, Bruni, Nyrad, scarred Draupnir and his brother along with the FireBeard brothers helped carry and toss the many foul orc and goblin bodies into the two massive pit fires that had burned continuously since they had been lit days before. Gimli had been greatly surprised to even see a few elegant Mirkwood Elves helping them out, pulling their share of the foul and tiring labor, when most of the other Wood-elves seem stay in their own camp, letting the Men and Dwarves clean up. The four long-limbed beings stood shirtless, like the rest of them, uncaring of the grim and gore, working side by side with the Dwarves and Men, their pale faces set in a grim mask like everyone else's. Gimli still didn't like Elves, but these few elegant beings had definitely earned some of Gimli's grudging respect after a long day of tossing and burning the seeming endless bodies.

Old Vestri during those days had spent his time helping out in the healing tents, where the ancient healer's skills were most needed. Of the camp Gimli was staying at, only Har the small cook, Lady Frar's daughter Kaya and the younger Dwarves like Skafid, Nur and a few others had stayed behind in camp. And though Gimli was young and not that much older then many of them, the older Dwarves recognized him as a proven warrior, the look in his large burning almond-shaped eyes spoke of a soul forged in fire and shaped by hardship. Still young, but no child. The same went for scarred and mute Draupnir, who was the same age as Gimli, like him, he and his brother had seen and lived through much already.

The dog was also kept in camp, the younger Dwarves looking after him for Gimli. Who after the first day had officially adopted the rangy mutt as his own. They younger Dwarves rough-housed, played games and kept each other occupied, when they where not busy doing their assigned chores. Har and Kaya made sure to keep an eye on the boisterous group as they cooked and mended clothes, until the rest of the camp returned in the evenings. The dog, now named Huo, which was Quenya for dog, joyfully greeted Gimli's return with happy wines and tail wagging, the copper-haired Dwarf affectionately giving him a few pats and a scratch behind the ears. Though the dog was friendly with everyone and would come when call, the brown dog never strayed far from Gimli, staying at his side and sleeping with him at night. And though he wouldn't admit it out loud, Gimli was greatly enjoying the mutts warm company.

The Men of Bard's army and the rest of the survivors of the town on the lake had already begun the long process of rebuilding Lake-town. As Bard set up an agreement with Thranduil for a steady supply of lumber and to get permission to go through their forest to set up trade with the reclusive Wood-men south of Mirkwood. He had also pulled aside several of his advisors and they had begun to draw up plans for the rebuilding of Dale even as they set about pressing matter of rebuilding Lake Town.

Bard also freely shared the wealth of his share of the treasure, with plenty left over to rebuilding both towns. Luckily the old plans for Dale had been saved from the destruction of Smaug's fire and brand new ones were being drawn up as Bard and the town's folk eagerly awaited the coming of Dain's army of builders. King Dain promising that they would arrive within the week, until then Bard's people busied themselves by beginning to lay down the ground work and securing their temporary camp by the Long Lake. Unfortunately the Master of Esgaroth turned out to be less then deserving of Bard's generosity, another victim to fall under the dragon's gold.

The army of Wood-elves where still camped in the shadow of the Mountain, Thranduil's force would be going back to their dark forest as soon as their more critically wounded soldiers had healed enough to be safely moved. For now though there was a strange giddy type of peace and even some sporadic and tentative intermingling with the various camps.

It was also during the course of those two days that Gimli found himself a new pair of trousers, which were snug fitting brown leather that hugged his slim hips and muscular legs, allowing him to finally discard his old ripped ones. He also wore one of Griff's spare shirts, which was dark green and sleeveless, it was also a bit big and hung off Gimli's thinner frame. Kaya said she would alter it for him later so it would fit him properly. The large gruff warrior had given it to him after he and Gimli had gone a few sparing rounds one evening, he had been quiet surprised when the younger Dwarf defeated him easily. Lady Frar had also tested his skill, along with Nyrad, who was incredibly fast with his lance, followed by massive Buni who had promptly wiped the floor with everyone (except Nyrad). Griff had been so impressed with Gimli's fighting skills, both with and without weapons, he though he should be rewarded.

At the moment however, Gimli found himself trailing behind Lady Frar and her daughter, seeing if they could find his missing axe. Scruffy Huo trotting happily at his heel as they walked through the city of tents and camp fires. His long thick hair trailing down his back in a thick rope as two thick locks of hair hung loose in front of his ears, framing his handsome tanned face as he looked around in interest.

They was a cackle from above and Gimli momentarily squinted his eyes as he looked up into the sunny sky and watched a pair of Ravens fly over head, both the dark birds apparently in the middle of an argument. It was a clear day, not a cloud to be seen though a November chill was in the air, the smell of coming winter on the wind.

Gimli had turned his focus back to his immediate surroundings and gave a yelp when he nearly collided with a dappled gray mountain pony. Startling not only him, but the thick necked pony that tossed its head, it's ears back as it dance on it's lead, having been startled out of it's previous dosing, having been tethered outside on of the many tents.

"Whoa! Easy there, easy…." Gimli soothed, putting his hands out to the snorting mount. He immediately felt a surge of embarrassment at his own clumsiness and looked about nervously for the animal's owner as he tried to calm the mount. Luckily the pony quickly got over it's momentary fright, its ears perking up again and came over for some attention.

"Sorry about that, lad. Wasn't look' in where I was going there," he apologized as he rubbed its neck and gave it some good scratches around the ears, the pony half-closing it's liquid brown eyes in pleasure. The large muscular pony stood just a little smaller then a regular sized horse, it's coat freshly washed, it's long dark tail and mane brushed out and shinning, the animal was clearly loved and well cared for. Gimli continued to pet and admire the animal, rubbing it's broad cheek and along it's neck. He couldn't help but chuckle when the pony turned and began to butt and rub it's large head against his chest.

"This used to be a clean shirt, I hope you know," Gimli snorted good-naturedly, as the pony continued to use him as a rubbing post before eventually stopping with a shake of it's head. Seeming to give a satisfied snort and swish of it's long tail as it shifted on it's large feathered hooves. The pony's pointed ears then swiveled foreword in interest, it's wide nostrils flaring as it took notice of Huo. Gimli watched in amusement as both dog and pony intently sniffed at one another, their noses no more then a few inches apart before Huo lost his courage and nervously skittered behind Gimli, the young Dwarf reaching down to give the dog a reassuring pat. The pony continued to watch the dog in seeming fascination before eventually losing interest in the smaller creature and began to dose again.

Gimli gave the bored mount a final pat then ducked under the pony's lead rope and hurried after Kaya and Lady Frar, Huo trotting after. Gimli's long copper hair thumping down his broad muscular back, while his two axes clinked comfortingly on his thick belt as he past various tents, carts and Dwarves. His large almond-shaped eyes looking from side to side at all the activity taking place in the busy camp, his ears filled with the sounds of many deep Dwarven voices and the rhythmic clinking and banging of metal being pounded. More then once he past by a group of Dwarves gathered around to watch a pair of Dwarves sparing or wrestling and one was just a flat out brawl. Most of the camp of course was full of Dain's soldiers, but Gimli did see quiet a few Wanderers like himself and other tag-a-longs, he even saw some of Bard's Men every now and then.

Ahead of him Kaya and Frar leisurely walked, both of them talking with one another. The dark-haired Kaya was no warrior, though she knew how to fight when cornered, her only weapons were the big Dwarven knife on her belt and a smaller knife hidden in her boot. Unlike her warrior mother, her skill lay in sowing, weaving and embroidery, she had even made most of her own clothes as well as her mother's. Her mother, like Gimli, was going to Dain's tent to see if she could find a missing weapon that she had lost during the battle, which was a throwing hatchet.

When they finally made it to Dain's red tent, they saw that a large crowd had gathered around the massive display of weapons found on the battle field. Gimli once again saw that many of those that milled about or searched through the weapons were soldiers from Dain's army, he did however spot quiet a few Dwarves that where clearly not part of the army. He even saw round faced Litr, who he had marched to the Mountain with, smile and waved at him from where he stood near a large cooking fire with a few other Wonderers. Gimli waved back at the friendly Dwarf holding the big ornate axe over his broad should.

Gimli even bumped into Bavor, the soldier who had been snidely ribbing him about his name several nights before. Seeing him, the brown-haired soldier came over and gave Gimli a friendly punch in the arm. Apparently in a much better mood then the night they had first met.

"Oy, Star! No hard feelings about that whole Elfish-sounding name thing earlier, eh?" he asked, chuckling at the copper-haired Dwarf's answering glare. But eventually Gimli shook his head and promptly punched the bigger Dwarf back in the shoulder with a smirk of his own, signifying "yes", no hard feelings. Bavor only laugh and gave the younger Dwarf a friendly whack on the back, wishing him good luck in finding his weapon before wandering off.

Gimli then turned with Lady Frar to the serious business of searching through the many weapons for his missing axe, Star Smasher. As he squatted down and diligently searched for the unique and single-bladed axe, Huo sat patently next to him panting, his big tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, his ears perked and his tail up and wagging at all the activity around them. Lady Frar and Kaya meanwhile had wandered further down to his left as they looked for her missing hatchet.

There was loud whoop of happiness from his immediate right as a dark-haired Dwarf squatting next to him finally found what he was looking for. Gimli looked over and watched the happy Dwarf, who was clearly a soldier, pick up a heavy broadsword and give it a loud kiss. Not seeming to care about it being covered in dried blood and mud.

Gimli gave a wistful sigh as he turned his attention back to his own search, occasionally picking up a heavy weapon for a closer look. Like most Dwarven weapons, the collection of swords, axes, war-hammers, lances, spears, clubs, and all other manner of weapon where of exceptional quality.

_Some more then others_, he thought to himself as he looked at the broken sword he held, even dirty he could see the flawed alloy that had been used, with a disgusted snort he tossed it back with the others. It was then that another loud voice cried out.

"Vitnir, come look at the axe I found!" called a deep voice.

"A prize indeed, Yngvi," said another voice.

Gimli glanced up for the group of axes he was looking through to see a soldier standing nearby with two others, further down the line. The one called Yngvi, stood proudly in his armor and heavy hauberk, with many thick braids in his dark hair and beard, Gimli guessed by the rough texture of his hair and beard that the soldier hailed from one of the StiffBeard clans. As for the other two, the much larger one stood shirtless, his large hairy chest bare, yet he oddly still wore a heavy cap of steel on his head, no doubt a personal quirk. The other soldier that was about the same size as Yngvi, had long unbraided blond hair and was also without armor, wearing instead a simple brown under tunic. Both Dwarves stood around the first, admiring the weapon he had found. Gimli quickly surmised that the big Dwarf was from one of the FireBeard clans by his flame-red hair and the other had to be from one of the northern StoneFoot clans by his light golden colored hair (4.). However a closer look at the axe the first soldier held made Gimli's eyes go wide in recognition and he immediately jumped to his feet.

"That's my axe!" He yelled, shoving his way through the moving crowd, Huo galloping behind.

"That's Fire Reaper, that's my mother's axe," he said coming to stand before the larger armored Dwarf, who turned to look at him. He was quickly dismissed however when the three soldier's only saw a copper-haired young Wanderer, clad in a overly large green shirt that clear wasn't his and brown leather pants with a scruffy brown dog. Like some of the larger and more skilled warriors in Dain's army, they didn't give much thought or care to Dwarves of lowers casts.

"And a beautiful axe it is," The soldier agreed, turning his admiring gaze back to the fine weapon he held, his two friends that flanked him gave agreeing grunts.

Gimli gave an agreeing nod as well, keeping his posture open, even as he internally growled at the stuck up soldier's casual dismissal. With a deep breath he then stepped forward with an outstretched hand for the weapon-- but was brought up short when the Yngvi suddenly moved the axe back out of his reach. Gimli watched the soldier slowly turn and look back at him again, only now his dark-grey eyes were narrowed, clear annoyance written on his face.

"Hold up now! I found it, so it belongs to me now, pup." he stated matter-a-factly.

Gimli was understandably stunned by this and was barely able to hold back an angry retort, but he quickly managed to rein-in his temper and tried a different tactic. Keeping his body language respectful- even though he wanted to snarl and simply snatch his rightful property back.

"But it's mine, see?" Gimli said earnestly, taking out his other axe and showing them, it was clear that the single-bladed axe the other Dwarf held was the twin to the one Gimli now held. Fire Ripper, with its stylized flame pattern on its crescent blade and Star Smasher with its stylized star patter, clearly both had been forged by the same smith.

However, when the soldier just looked back at him with a dismissive snort, clearly refusing relinquish his axe, Gimli was through being polite.

"It's mine by birthright!" he now yelled, his posture straightening up in clear challenge as he glared back at the unimpressed Dwarf, his two friends smirking.

Yngvi however only raised an eyebrow as he watched the pup's clear agitation, the obvious change in posture. _Looked like someone need a lesson on watching his manners around his higher peers_.

The almond-eyed Dwarf noticeably blinked in surprise when Yngvi suddenly held out the axe for him to take. Gimli, understandably, now had a look of confusion on his tan face, having been prepared to take the dark-haired soldier on just moments before, he now stood there dumfounded at Yngvi's odd change of behavior. Unthinkingly he dropped his defensive stance and automatically began to step forward to take the out held weapon.

Gimli was so intend on taking Star Smasher back, that he didn't notice many of the other soldiers that had paused to watch, shake their heads and grumble, knowing what was going to happen, including Bavor who began to walk over to the gathering crowd. For though Yngvi was not a very large or strong Dwarf, he was consider a very skilled fighter, he was also a notorious bully, having come from one of the higher clans of noble blood from the Iron Hills, his two friends were not much better. Most of his fellow soldiers had nothing to do with the three if given a choice, and none had willing stood up to Yngvi after he had broken the arm and three ribs of the last person to challenge him over something. But Gimli didn't know any of this as he automatically put Fire Ripper back in it's holster on his belt as he again stepped forward to take the Star Smasher back.

So intend was he to take back his mother's weapon, he was completely blindsided when Yngvi suddenly stepped forward and socked him right in the gut with his other fist. The strike driving all the air from his lungs, the heavy blow physically lifting Gimli momentarily off the ground.

With a loud 'Oughh!' Gimli immediately fell to his knees clutching his abdomen as he tried to get his breath back, taken totally by surprise by the sudden sucker punch. As he knelt there in the dirt, hearing the murmurs from the watching crowd, Gimli cursed his own foolishness while a small voice in the back of his head laughed nastily that he'd clearly forgotten what it was like to be hit by his own kind. It was then that his abused stomach violently rolled and he proceeded to throw up the contents of his meager breakfast. While Yngvi continued to glare down at him, his two friends stepped back from the growing mess as they laughed at the naive young exile. _Fool_!

Huo who had been cowering behind Gimli, came out and began to loudly bark at these scary strangers who had hurt his two-legged companion. The noise drawing the attention of more Dwarves nearby, including some other Wanderers that had paused to look up or come over to see what was happening. Lady Frar and Kaya, had also come over, the big female shoving her way through the gathering crowd before she and her daughter stopped and silently watched with the rest. Though Kaya watched with worried eyes, her mother looking on stone-faced, watching him still kneeling there in disapproval as many others in the crowd watched in clear sympathy, none moved to help him. It was the Dwarven way, you fight your own battles, win or lose. Only one's blood or one's mate had the right to step in and fight another's battle.

Unnoticed, except by the soldiers that quickly lowered their postures and made room for her, another large armored Dwarrow-dam stepped forward to silently watch the action. Ruby-colored eyes watched in interest as she calmly waiting to see where this confrontation would go.

Gimli's dog continued to bark until Yngvi finally tired of the noise, with a growl he kicked at the mutt, causing Huo to yelp in fright and dash away with his tail between his legs. Luckily the armored Dwarf's kick didn't connect. Huo would have gone back to hiding behind Gimli, but Kaya reached out and snagged the brown dog by the scruff and dragged it over to her, keeping the animal safely out of the way with her and her mother.

"Stop it, Yngvi!" Snarled Bavor from where he now stood behind Gimli's kneeling form, the young Dwarf's retching finally over. Bavor might like to rile people and stir-up a little trouble now and then, but he was no bully. The larger soldier also had a great dislike of Yngvi and had seen the other Dwarf pick on other weaker soldiers in the past. Like most Dwarves he was a firm believer in letting others fight their own battles, but this was not Yngvi picking on another soldier or mature warrior.

"He's just a Wanderer! Leave the pup alone!" he growled, from where he stood. Bavor had no idea of Gimli's parentage or past, so thought him a simple peasant that had tagged along for the battle.

"Shut your mouth, Bavor!" The other soldier snarled back, glaring at the other brown haired soldier in annoyance.

"It-It's-n-not yours!" Gimli finally managed to wheeze. Wiping his mouth on the back of arm before turning his face up to glare at bully, his white teeth now bared. The soldier and his smirking friends looked down again at the young Dwarf still down on his knees, a puddle of vomit before him, clutching his abdomen.

"I wasn't asking, boy!" The dark haired soldier growled, ignoring the glaring Bavor who stood back with the rest of the watching Dwarves, including the still silently watching Lady Frar and Kaya. "You should learn to take better care of your weapons," he laughed before simply walking away, Gimli seething as he watched the armored soldier attach Star Smasher to his thick belt.

In Dwarven society it was a common practice to challenge someone to a fight over something. If you could not prove yourself and best your opponent, then whatever the challenge was over was automatically forfeited to the winner. Though this practice was far more common with the Warrior cast and those in the higher end of the Dwarven hierarchy. King Dain himself had even had to defended his rule against challengers in the past, killing both of them. But aside from possible death and maiming when it came to challenging someone over leadership, there was also another catch to a challenger, just because you might win, didn't mean that others would willingly follow your lead. Most fights however where usually over simple insults, questions of honor, retribution over something and just plain bad tempers.

A deep growl rumbled up from Gimli's chest as he watched Yngvi and his friends walk away. The ever burning flame in his being flared into a sudden inferno. He had been laughed at by Men and Elves, but he would be damned to Mandos' Hall if he was going to put up with it from his own kind! _Fuck- proper hierarchy_! With a deep breath he forced himself up again, his muscular arms down at his sides as his chest heaved and his broad fists audibly tightened. His smooth handsome face darkened with anger, his brown almond-shaped eyes narrowed and flashed dangerously as a breeze played with his dark copper hair. Gimli glanced over to where Lady Frar and Kaya stood, making sure Huo was still safely out of the way, sharing a final look with the now smirking Frar before turning his burning gaze to the three smug soldiers. Poor Yngvi had no idea of the trouble he just gotten himself into.

Unfortunately for Yngvi, this particular young Dwarf had been taught under Lady Nei's harsh tutelage and had lived the hard life of a Wanderer since he was born. He had also been holding his own and winning most of the brutal drag-out fights he got into before he had even killed his first warg. He had even taken part and won a few purses at the savage back-alley fighting competitions held occasionally by various gambling dens and by the darker more unsavory originations in the rougher towns in the Blue Mountain area.

So it was that right before Yngvi was going to shove his way out of the makeshift ring of onlookers, he paused at the sound of running feet behind him. He turned around, a snarl on his lips, just in time to see the copper-haired pup charging at him, right between his two friends before jumping up and plowing both of his booted feet into his chest, knocking him back. Causing him to crash into a few bystander before falling heavily to the ground, his wind knocked out of him. Luckily for Yngvi the heavy hauberk he still wore protected him from the worst of the normally devastating blow.

Gimli meanwhile was back on his feet, ready for action when he turned to Yngvi's two friends, who stood there stunned as many cheers went up from the circling crowd. Gimli let out a deep rumbling growl as he looked at the other two, deciding that he would teach them both a lesson about laughing at him! The watching crowd quickly saw that while the three soldiers might be older and bigger then him, the young Wonderer clearly had greater agility and all around fighting ability as the crowd watched Gimli turn his main focus on the blond soldier wearing the simple brown tunic.

Seeming quick as lightning Gimli gave the StoneFoot an insulting open-handed slap across the face, causing the other to let out a curse. Then before the blond warrior had a chance to raise a fist, Gimli popped him twice with his right fist then smashed he left elbow into his face, knocking him back into the ring of onlookers.

The other warrior, finally jarred into action, growled and stepped forward to punch him, but Gimli easily blocked the powerful blow with his forearm. The red-haired soldier then received an insulting slap to the face as well before Gimli gave the large FireBeard a vicious upper-cut, causing the shirtless soldier's heavy helmet to fly off.

As Gimli nimbly danced away, he noticed with satisfaction that the large shirtless Dwarf stumbled back holding his now bloody mouth. _That will be a reminder to watch who he laughs at!_, Gimli thought with a grin.

If there was one good thing about fighting his own kind Gimli mused to himself as he continued to fight, it was that he didn't have to hold back his punches and kicks. When fighting Men he had to be careful, unless of course he was out kill or badly injure. He had found out early on that human bodies had tendency to break more easily. When he was younger before he and his family moved to Black Hollow, he had gotten angry at a foolish Man that had thrown a bottle at him outside of a rundown tavern. The drunk and ranting Man had then drawn a knife on him, after Gimli told him to "go fuck himself" and gave the human a rude hand sign. Barely having avoided getting a knife in the back, Gimli had angrily retaliated by punching the Man in the face, unfortunately in the heat of the moment he didn't hold back. It was purely by accident that Gimli killed the Man, having inadvertently fractured the Man's skull and broken his neck. But now he was once again able to unleash the true power in his thickly corded arms, not fearing that a solid punch or kick would accidentally rupture an organ or shatter bone.

Aule had built the Dwarves for durability, giving them a strong framework of heavy bones, dense stone-like muscle and tough sinew, with more reinforced joints and thick skin. With their oversized upper bodies, thick and seeming massive arms and big powerful hands, Dwarves where capable of awe-inspiring feats of strength. That same strength also made them capable of delivering truly devastating blows. Even without weapons, not many sentient beings wanted to tangle barehanded with a creature that was capable of literally ripping your limbs off.

Playing unashamedly dirty, Gimli blocked the blond soldier's left hook and punched him squarely in the gut, causing him to bend over and hold his abdomen. Seeing the opportunity to dish out some humiliation, Gimli then reached over the warrior's back and grabbed the hem of his brown tunic, tugging it over the soldier's head. This left the blonde's broad chest bare and effectually blinded him as well as trapped his arms over his head. There was a cheer and bust of laughter from the encircling crowd when Gimli reached out and gabbed one of the blond Dwarf's pierced nipples and gave it a vicious twist, causing a muffled yell of pain to be heard. Gimli then kicked the soldier in the ass as he cursed and struggled with his tunic, accidentally falling down in the process.

He then turned and ducked the swing by the big FireBeard that came at him again, but instead of jumping back up, he allowed himself to fall forward catching himself with his outstretched hands on the ground then whipped his lower body completely off the ground as if he was doing a strange cartwheel. With devastating affect he slammed the back of his booted heel into the side of his large opponent's head before continuing forward with his rotation. It was an uncommon move, meant to take an opponent by complete surprise. Unfortunately it could only be used affectively once when one was fighting another experienced fighter, for without that element of surprise it left one open for attack. It was also next to useless when was dealing with taller species.

This had all taken place within a matter of seconds for with a heavy thump, his feet were back on the ground and he was back in a fighting stance, ready to dish out more. That final blow however was apparently enough for his opponent, for the large soldier held out one of his big hands in supplications, his other clutching his still ringing head and submissively dropped his posture as he backed away from Gimli. Who continued to menacingly advance on the much larger warrior until the older Dwarf finally dropped his eyes.

Satisfied, Gimli turned to the other soldier who had just stumbled up again, once again free of his tunic, launching off into a combination of wicked jabs and punches to the blond Dwarf. But by the fourth punch the blond was down and stayed down, also dropping his eyes in defeat. Allowing Gimli to finally turn back to Yngvi, who was finally back on his feet, his breath back, some of the cheering spectators shoving him back into the makeshift ring.

"Give me back my axe, shit-breath!" Gimli demanded, his fists tightly clenched. But Yngvi only growled in rage, his sharp teeth barred and came at him, his face red with humiliation.

They traded blows, Gimli managed to dodging and counter most of Yngvi powerful strikes, but the larger Dwarf was able to land a lucky right-hook that made Gimli stumble back and his head snap to the side. However he was able to quickly recover and came back at the bigger Dwarf with two hard hitting body shots, one to the kidney and a kick to the gut. The brown-haired soldier felt the painful blows even through the layers of the thick hauberk he wore as he gasped in pain.

Then in a moved that his mother had loved to use, Gimli grabbed Yngvi by his long braided hair, then yanked his head down as he smashed his knee up into his opponent's face. With some satisfaction he felt Yngvi's nose brake, then watched the other Dwarf cry out as he fall back to the ground, clutching his bleeding face.

It was then that a large older male stepped forward, shoving his way through the tight press of onlookers. His bearing and heavy armor was that of someone of importance in Dain's army, in fact he was one of Dain's a battalion Commanders. The older silver-haired Dwarf, who was called Moin, was of medium height with a hard grizzled look about him, his long braided beard tucked into his wide belt.

He didn't particularly care if anyone decided to kick Yngvi's ass, but after watching the young Wonderer easily defeat and knock down his third soldier he decided he had seen enough. The exile-pup was making his troops look bad and in turn was making him look bad, since it was he who had helped train the three soldier's getting thoroughly trounced. No matter how good a fighter the ragged pup was or how much Yngvi and his friends had needed to be knocked down a peg or two, Moin decided to put a stop to the fight.

Gimli at the moment was standing triumphantly over Yngvi, his broad fists clenched, waiting to see if dark-haired soldier would concede defeat or get up again. He was preparing to demand for his axe back again when he sensed movement behind him. Whipping around, he saw, what he though was another soldier reaching out to grab him, Gimli was no fool he didn't want to get in a grappling contest, knowing all the soldiers here outweighed and where far stronger then he.

Instantly he side-stepped and gave his new opponent a closed-fisted back hand, back on the defensive, fists up as he bounced on the balls of his feet. Unfortunately he didn't know that when the older Dwarf was reaching for him, he was only going to grab him by the arm and pull him away from the still down and glaring Yngvi.

Gimli's sudden maneuver and strike caused Moin to stumble back in utter surprise, he then stood there for several moments, motionless, a broad hand to his now aching jaw. Seeming stunned that this scruffy pup, not even eighty summers yet, had managed to land a blow on _him_ before his temper flared and his head snapped once again in Gimli's direction.

From where he stood Gimli saw the look flash over the silver-haired Dwarf's face and instinctively knew that that this game had changed. And as he waited for the Moin's next move, something was nagging at the back of his mind, something about the manner and dress of this soldier-- something different. But Gimli didn't have the luxury to contemplate the nagging voice, for he was soon on the defensive as Moin launched himself over the space between them, his long silver hair swinging out behind him. Gimli was able to block the first strike and avoid the nasty kick that had been aimed at his knee, but was unable to avoid the third blow as Moin punched Gimli in the face in retaliation.

Gimli cursed as he stumbled back, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth as his untouched axes clinked merrily on his thick belt, but he was able to shake it off before Moin could land a follow up punch. Ducking low and swinging out one of his strong legs, he knocked the older Dwarf's legs out from under him. This gave him valuable room as a now seething Moin rolled to his feet, the soldier's chain mail and various weapons clattering together.

Gimli spit out some blood from his now split lip as he glared at of his armored opponent, then with a growl of his own he managed to dodged Moin's next move before whipping around and landing a heavy blow with his elbow directly to the older Dwarf's face causing him to stumble back in pain.

The soldiers watching around them could only stand there wide-eyed, many with their mouths now hanging open as they watched the two fighters go at it, trading blows at a furious pace. They all knew who Moin was and were simply dumbfounded that here was their battalion leader fighting with some scruffy copper-haired pup-- and this pup was actually holding his own! Moin himself was also greatly surprised at Gimli's fighting skills, for not many of his own men and peers would have been able to stand up to him for this long, let a lone this ragged underweight Dwarfling!

Kaya watched nearby with concern, still holding onto the wining and fidgeting brown dog that sat at her booted feet, the young Dwarrow-dam making sure he wouldn't be stepped on by the other Dwarves crowded around to watch. Her hulking mother still watched in silence, her dark eyes following the fight as she stood with her thick muscular arms crossed over her broad chest, every now and then she would snort in amusement of shake her head at certain hits or moves. Twice she raised her voice to yell something to Gimli, "Tighten up that stance!" and "Watch your right!"

Gimli didn't hear any of it though as he traded blows with his bigger opponent, his thick copper-braid whipping about and snapping behind him as he danced and dodged, hard pressed to defend against the older Dwarf's attacks. From the other side of the watching crowd, which had stepped back to allow the two opponents more room, the other armored Dwarrow-dam silently stood, her sharp eyes missing nothing, a small pleased smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she watched.

Unfortunately for Gimli, who was simply defending himself against what he had thought was just another of Yngvi's friends, still had no idea that the silver-haired Dwarf he had just knocked back again and given a black-eye to was one of the five high ranking battalion Commanders in Dain's army. It was also greatly unfortunate that Moin was an extremely prideful Dwarf and took Gimli's strike as a personal attack on his position and decided to teach this Wanderer a harsh lesson.

Again they clashed together, Yngvi, his friends and the silently watching crowd forgotten. The two traded rapid hits and blocks, but as good as Gimli was, the older and bigger warrior simply had more experienced then Gimli. He was also relatively fresh, while Gimli had the handicap of fighting three previous opponents, and while Yngrvi and his friends hadn't been much of a challenge, he was still recovering from long weeks of not eating well and exhaustion from his long journey to the Mountain.

With a devastating hit to Gimli's ribs, that drove the air from his lungs and heavy strike to the cheek that caused Gimli's head to snap back and his vision to momentarily blackout, he found himself falling back.

He crashed to the dirt with a groan, but before Gimli had the chance to get up he found an unforgiving Dwarven boot on his throat and his right arm twisted and held in a painful hold. It was only now that Gimli was able to look up at his opponent that he realized his mistake, seeing the specifically tooled armor and the beads in Moin's long beard and why he was in the position he was in now. The onlookers that had gathered to watch had become deathly silent, this fight had gone from a regular brawl for the rightful return of a axe, to something very serious.

The harsh looking silver-haired Dwarf stood above him, breathing heavily, his boot still on Gimli's neck as he slowly pulled on the young Dwarf's captured arm and in turn increasing the pressure on his neck. If he kept going the pressure and angle would eventually brake the young Dwarf's neck.

"You fight well, but know your place, pup. Yield!" the older warrior barked, glaring down at the struggling youngster, his right eye already beginning to swell and darken from Gimli's previous hit.

Gimli however, not thinking clearly, his heart still burning with anger and frustration, just growled through his clenched teeth and redoubled his struggles. _Why should he yield!_?

"Yield!" Moin barked again, looking down at the young Dwarf incredulously as Gimli continued to struggle. Watching him clawing futility at the cruel hobnail boot chocking him with his one free hand, his short bearded face set in a straining grimace as he struggled.

A long tense silence followed, only the sounds of Gimli's boots scrapping for perches in the dirt and his struggling gasps broke the hushed quiet, but still he did not yield. Gimli's vision was beginning to darken and he knew he was about to pass out from lack of air, feeling like the Dwarf standing over him was going to pop his arm out of it's socket at any moment when he distantly heard Lady Frar's loud voice speak up.

"Back off, Moin!" she growled, shoving aside a few watching Dwarves as she finally stepped forward, fearing that this had gone way too far. She knew Moin from previous battles, though with his high rank in Dain's army, they where both about equal in the Dwarven hierarchy, it was only in a few matters that she was higher then him. This matter was not one of those and the silver-haired Dwarf only turned and looked up at her with a glare, but otherwise did not stop what he was doing. Lady Frar growled deep in her throat and was about to physically back up her demand, when another voice suddenly spoke up.

Frar and the other Dwarves turned and watched another big Dwarrow-dam stepped out of the crowd, the powerful Matriarch wore gilded armor, her long brown beard hung from her chin, braided with intricately carved mithril beads. The heavy helmet she wore cast her face into shadow, leaving only her plump lips and her burning ruby-colored eyes to be seen. Gimli however didn't notice as he continued to struggle, his handsome face now twisted into a pained grimace as the pressure on his arm was becoming unbearable.

"You made your point, Moin," The Matriarch said as she walked into the improvised ring, the sound of creaking leather and the heavy clinking of her many weapons accompanying her steps. She stopped not four feet from Moin and his still struggling captive, yet still the grizzled male looked reluctant to stop, his pride badly sting.

"Moin!" she barked this time, the steel in her voice unmistakable and immediately the battalion Commander released the stubborn young Dwarf. Who quickly rolled away and forced himself up into a low crouch even as he gasped and coughed, his chest heaving as he glared daggers at Moin. Who only glared down at him and step away as Kaya and Huo darted out from behind Lady Frar to help Gimli up.

It was then that the group of spectators began to brake up, some like Bavor stopping long enough to praise and give Gimli a rough pat on the back or a punch in the arm as the copper-haired Dwarf bounced between embarrassment and pride as he knelt down and patted Huo's brown fur. The regular sounds of the large busy camp around them returning to normal as people went about their errands and business. Kaya growled and tisked at him from his other side, chiding him for his foolish actions, even as she kept a comforting hand on his arm and tucked some of his now lose hair behind his ear. To which Gimli could only rub the back of his neck in embarrassment and give a helpless lopsided smile, which only made her narrow her eyes and scowl.

"Lad, you got balls of solid rock!" Lady Frar finally barked in laughter as she came over, giving Gimli a whack on the back- nearly knocking him over.

Gimli gave her a small smile before he wiped his bloody chin on his arm, but otherwise said nothing as he then reached up to rub his sore throat. All in all he knew he had come out of this confrontation very lucky, with only a split-lip, some bruises, a sore arm and neck to show for it. If nothing else he had earned himself a lot more respect by standing up the three bullies he thought as he rotated his sore arm. Kaya however just shook her head at both him and her mother's behavior as she stood there watching Gimli spit out another wad of blood.

Huo during this time was busy sniffing interestedly at the now cold pool of vomit on the ground, then began to happily lap it up before Gimli noticed and pulled the dog away. Kaya wrinkled her nose in disgust as Gimli just shook his head at the oblivious mutt.

Meanwhile the high ranking and heavily armored Matriarch with the massive axe strapped to her back and broadsword at her hip moved over to where Yngvi and his two friends stood nursing their wounds. The big shirtless FireBeard was whining about a loose tooth and was bent down holding his mouth open, pointing a thick finger to a particular tooth, while the much smaller blond soldier looked up to see what the other was trying to show him. Yngvi meanwhile stood there, his face bloody, his nose badly broken, braided hair in disarray, positively fuming as he glared in the direction of the young Wonderer. However both he and his friends immediately snapped to attention when they noticed the powerful Matriarch standing before them, their posture submissive.

"Pride be the warrior before the fall," quoted the Dwarrow-dam as she glared down at the Yngvi and his friends. It was during this time that the rest of Yngvi's company, that had been watching from nearby, come over to stand behind the humbled three. Without a word the commanding Warrior held out her big gloved hand for the single-bladed axe with the star fall pattern that still hung from Yngvi belt, the cause of all that had just transpired. Yngvi wisely handed it over with out a word, he and his friends quietly waiting for what she would do.

For the next few moments she felt it's balance and looked the wonderfully crafted weapon over, marveling at the skilled forging that had clearly gone into such a weapon. It was no wonder that the young one had been so willingly to fight for it, she thought to herself. She gave satisfied grunt before she turned to speak once again the group patiently waiting before her.

"Congratulations, Yngvi. You and all your company are now officially on shit-shoveling duty. And they have you to personally thank for it. Report to Commander Ondri for duty-- NOW!" she ordered with a bellow, jabbing a gloved finger at the Mountain.

The company of twelve immediately gave her a deep respectful bow before they moved off with many a grumbled "Thank you very much, Yngvi!" and "Yah! Thanks a lot, shit-face!" Poor Yngvi and his two companions also had to put up with the many glares and shoves by their fellow soldiers as they reluctantly trudged to the Mountain. It must be said, that there are fewer things fouler then Dragon shit, and Smaug had been using a large chamber off the main hall in the Mountain as his personal toilet since he moved in. Needless to say their was quite a lot of it.

The dark-haired Dwarrow-dam watched them go before she motioned for Moin to come over to her. The silver-haired battalion Commander came to a stop before her and gave her a respectful bow, he was about to open his mouth to explain himself when she stepped closer to him. He jumped and his eyes flew open as a yell of surprised and pain caught in his throat as a cruel hand suddenly grabbed his genitals through the thick material of his trousers.

"If I ever see or hear about you doing something like this again because of your hurt pride. I'll kill you," she growled into his ear, Moin let out a chocked gasp of pain as she mercilessly tightened her grip on his balls.

"Understand?"

"Yes, my Lady Ai!" Moin managed to say with a hurried nod of his head, his mouth set in a grimace as he winced over her broad shoulder, respectfully not meeting her flashing eyes, showing his submission.

"Good, now be gone from my sight!" she snarled, her ruby-colored eyes flashing dangerously. She was hard on her troops, weakness was not tolerated, but she was fair and knew the difference between proper discipline and simple abuse when she saw it. She didn't like what she saw today and planned to take up her observations with Thekk that evening as she watched the silver-haired battalion leader hurryingly limp away.

Thekk, son of Thrikk was Dain's top general of the army, higher in rank than even the Lady Laina, Dain's second in command, Ai herself in turn was second only to General Thekk in the army. She then turned her attention the handsome young Dwarf standing with the two females.

When she had first come upon the fight she had immediately recognized him as the same scruffy young Wanderer that wanted to join their force as it made it's way to the Mountain days before, angrily watching from the side of the road as the troops march past, ignoring him. She was quite pleased to see him still alive. She was even more pleased after watching the confrontation between Yngvi and his friends, as well as the following fight with Moin, that her initial observation of him had proven correct. This ragged young pup was far more then he appeared and now that she knew his name, she immediately recognized him as having to be one of Lady Nei's offspring. Which explained much in her mind, Nei had named her son well, _Fire indeed_! _What a fine soldier he would make_, she mused to herself as she walked over.

"Well, lad. I see you didn't disappoint me. Well done! Congratulation's on surviving your first battle," she said, not bothering to hide the pleasure in her deep voice.

Gimli looked up from talking to Kaya and turned in surprise to see the powerful Matriarch he had first met days before as Dain's army marched to the Mountain. Still clad in the armor he had first seen her in, the big battle axe strapped on her back and the long broad sword at her hip, walk over, his axe in hand as she came to stand by him. Once again she seemed to tower over him as he immediately dropped his posture in respect, Kaya beside him also did the same, only the hulking Lady Frar stood there, her unimpressed dark-eyes watching the new arrival.

"And congratulations in teaching Yngvi a lesson about taking things that don't belong to him," Lady Ai continued with a humorous snort, handing the handsome young Dwarf his axe back.

"My deepest thanks, my Lady!" He thanked her sincerely, eagerly taking Star Smasher and giving the Dwarrow-dam a deep respectful bow, the end of his copper braid sweeping the dirt.

When he straightened up again, he immediately checked his mother's old weapon for any damage, aside for needing to be sharpened and a thorough cleaning, the axe was fine. With that he closed his eyes with a final sigh of relief, resting his head momentarily against the back of the weapon before standing up again and firmly shoving the axe back in it's holster at his side. The heavy added weight of it instantly soothed the last of his lingering anxiety.

When he finally turned back to the Matriarch he saw her reach up and remover her helmet, revealing a high cheek boned face and thick brown hair held back in a long braid just like his own. Now that he had a unobstructed view of her tan face, he was surprised to see by her almond-shaped eyes and striking features that she too was clearly from one of the IronFists clans like his mother. In fact, what Gimli didn't know was that she was actually a second cousin from his mother's side, the silently watching Kaya noticed the similarities as well as she looked from Gimli to the large Matriarch. Ai had only recently realized herself after she had learned of his name, but for now she said nothing, only smiling at the look on Gimli's smooth handsome face. Internally marveling at how much he looked like his mother…

"Well! If it isn't Lady Ai, the Lighting Hand," Lady Frar suddenly snorted, interrupting their thoughts. Sounding particularly under whelmed as she stood there with a big hand resting on her now cocked hip.

"Frar!" Lady Ai said sarcastically, instantly recognizing her voice. The mithril beads braided into her beard flashing in the sunlight as she tucked her helmet under her arm and turned to the larger female standing behind Gimli and the dark-haired Kaya.

"How did I know a big bitch like you would come out of this battle without a scratch?" she asked, pushing her way past Gimli and Kaya. Both young Dwarves now watched nervously as the two females stopped before one another, flashing eyes locked in challenge.

"Your too ugly to kill!" finished Ai with a booming laugh as both she and Lady Frar began to circle one another. Gimli and Kaya glanced at each other, both knowing that this could get ugly and wisely stepped further back, Gimli's dog seemed to sense their unease and stayed close, his tail down as he leaned against Gimli's leg.

Lady Frar was bigger then Lady Ai, but Ai was a well known fighter, her skills legendary in Dain's army, having literally fought her way up the ranks. So it was that after a few tense moments of sizing one another up, Lady Frar stopped and averted her eyes, showing her acceptance of Lady Ai's higher standing. Yet because she was a high ranking Matriarch in her own right as well as a seasoned Warrior, Lady Frar did not need to lower her posture.

Seeing this the brown-haired Dwarrow-dam stopped circling as well, then they both stepped back, their postures relaxed once again.

"So Frar, where are you headed, I don't imagine you are with those camped by the supply train," Ai said, tossing her head in the direction where many of the Wonderers and tag-a-longs had camped on the outskirts of the Dain's camp.

"Kaya, Gimli! Go on ahead, I'll catch up," Frar suddenly ordered, watching them reluctantly begin to move off in the direction of the Mountain, Gimli glancing over his shoulder a few times at Lady Ai.

"We _where_ camped up near RavenHill, behind the old watch-post," Frar finally answered, turning back to the other Dwarrow-dam. Her voice was noticeably deeper then Ai's smoother tones, her features were also much broader and rounded compared to Ai's more angular and refined features, her long beard and hair more simply braided them Ai's.

"We are going over to join the group waiting to get into the Mountain, then we'll be off to do a little exploring… as well as to see if the lad there can find that saw-tongued father of his," she continued, motioning with her chin in the direction of the two young Dwarves moving away.

"Good hunting then!" Ai said, a smile on her plump lips as she watched Gimli and Kaya walk ahead.

The dark-haired Kaya was fussing again with her purple hood, while Gimli rubbed at his sore neck, the scruffy brown mutt happily trotting along beside them, tail up. When she was sure they were out of hearing, she stepped conspiratorially closer to the larger Dwarrow-dam.

"If you can not find Gloin or his brother, bring the lad back to me," she said in a lower voice, her flashing eyes never leaving Gimli retreating back. "I will take him into my clan, we are IronFists and will look out for Nei's remaining child. Besides, his skills and Warrior spirit is wasted with those two LongBeard jewelers." She snorted in derision, Frar giving her an agreeing nod before moving off to catch up with her daughter and Gloin's son.

Lady Ai stood there and watched them go, a smile coming to her lips again.

-------------------

It was not long after that the three of them had walked up the Mountain, past the outer walls and had joined the large group already amassed outside of the main gate of the Mountain. The massive impenetrable doors that had once barred the way where long gone, ripped off their hinges and tossed down the Mountain side. Catching sight of big Bruni through the large crowd they moved over to join him, his blue-haired mate and most of the others from their camp waited near some boulders the Goblins had thrown down during the battle.

The fiery-haired Finn and Ginnar where busy arm wrestling one another, their massive war hammers on the ground next to them, while the big warrior Griff, sat cross-legged on the ground reading a beat up book. The small brown-haired cook Har, stood behind him, reading over the big Dwarf's shoulder. Notch the story teller lounged in the shade of one of the larger boulders with the rest of his family, the young teen with the brick-red stalking cap boredly perched atop the boulder his family shaded under, seeing how far he could throw pebbles down the Mountain. Old Vestri and Lady Rin where still busy helping out in the healing tents and none had seen Thrin since the hollow-eyed warrior had wondered off into the darkness that first night.

Coming over they saw that they had clearly just missed another scuffle as a thoroughly exasperated Nyrad now stood trying to hold the struggling and snarling Nur and Skafid apart, every now and then one of the two would try and lunge around Nyrad to get at the one another. Bruni just stood nearby holding most of their heavy travel-packs over his broad shoulders, looking up as if beseeching the Valar for guidance.

"Well, I see we haven't missed Nur and Skafid's daily row," sniffed Kaya in annoyance, a dark eyebrow cocked. The entire camp after the first night had come to know of the two young Dwarves seeming never ending series of fights and yelling matches, that were usually sparked over the strangest things. Like saying something, throwing something or simply looking at one another.

"Joy." Gimli deadpanned next to her, giving a big yawn before wincing at the sudden pain in his jaw.

The three new arrivals came to stand by the watching Draupnir and Dolgthrasir. The dark-haired brothers gave them a silent greeting, Draupnir giving Gimli a friendly bump, which Gimli returned. The two had become quick friends and tended to gravitate towards one another, being the same age and male. Both being kindred spirits, having seen and been through far to much in their young lives.

"_So how long has this one been going on_?" Gimli signed in Iglishmek (5.) before crossing his arms as he watched the show.

"_Nine minutes now. You missed the best chase yet_," Draupnir signed silently back, his one black and amber colored eyes sparkling in silent laughter, the rest of his badly scarred face covered by his red scarf.

"Stop it! By Mahal, what is it now?" Nyrad was growling, the slender Dwarf finally managing to shove them apart before turning to glare down at his brother.

"He farted!" yelled the messy haired Nur, pointing an accusing finger at the smirking and equally messy haired Skafid now standing behind his older sibling.

Nyrad groaned, feeling a headache coming on as he reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, seeing again why his mother insisted he and take both Skafid and Nur along. The damned evil Woman wanted them out of the house!

"We all must do this once in while, little brother," Nyrad sighed, as he looked at his brother with an eyebrow now cocked. His long straight hair was braided into many thick ropes with delicate blue beads, the multiple silver loops piecing his ears flashing with his movements.

"But he farted on my head!" Nur bellowed in outrage, causing many of those around them to stop what they were doing and look in his direction. Needless to say, this was followed by many snickers and snorts of amusement. Nur seethed, visibly bristling, his long blue-hair was lose, having lost his hair tie in the previous scuffle, while Skafid tried to look innocent as Gimli, Draupnir, his brother, the two FireBeard brothers, Lady Frar, Griff and many around them flat out laughed.

It was finally to much for Nur, when he saw the light-haired Skafid lean around Nyrad and make a face at him.

"Why you!" Came the following snarl, needless to say the fight was back on.

This time, after seeing the pleading look on Nyrad's face, Gimli and Draupnir helped brake up the fight, both of them coming over and grabbing hold of Nur and hauling him a few feet away before dumping him growling to the dirt. Bruni meanwhile, after catching the hard look his blue-haired mate was giving him, that promised 'no nooky for you night' if he didn't do something, finally dumped the many packs he had been holding and simply stepped forward and grabbed his cursing younger cousin by the back of his clothes, lifting him off the ground like a squirming puppy.

Gimli tiredly plopped down next to the grumbling Nur, wincing at the dull ache in his ribs before resting his arms on top of his raised knees, his baggy green shirt hanging off one scarred shoulder. Draupnir sat down next to him before laying back with his eyes closed, a few moments later Kaya also came over and flopped down next to them, putting her purple hood up to keep the sun out of her eyes as she brought out some embroidery she had been working on. For a few moments Gimli idly watched her fingers nimbly push the needle up and through the small hoop of stretched material, watching a delicate pattern of water lilies take shape on the sky-blue material, that was destined to become the pocket of one of Kaya's long skirts.

Huo meanwhile had also come over and was giving the grumbling Nur some wet dog kisses, his long tail wagging, and it was not long before the younger Dwarf was laughing and squirming under Huo's attention. His previous anger quickly forgotten in the face of the dog's simple affection. Finally calmed he briskly rubbed the scruffy mutt's brown fur, a smile back on his young face.

From the corner of his almond-shaped eye Gimli watched, internally wondering if he had ever been like that, shaking his head at how easily Nur's and Skafid's moods could change. Had he ever been like that? Was that the reason why his Da and others would get so exasperated with he and Ulfr? _Had they really ever been that bad?_

But the more he thought about his best friend and some of the stunts they pulled, including their ill planned drunken fist fight on the tavern roof back in Black Hollow, that had only ended after he fell off the roof. With an embarrassed internal groan he came to the quick realization that yes, they had been. In fact they had worse!

"Oy, Star. Ya look like shit!" chirped a cheerful voice next to him.

For a moment Gimli didn't say anything, just turned to look drolly at the now smirking Nur, who was looking back at him, taking amused notice of Gimli's mused hair and new bruises.

Whap

Nur's grin was understandably gone after Gimli promptly smacked him on the back of the head, causing the younger Dwarf to yelp and rub the back of his head as he now glared at the silent copper-haired Dwarf next him.

"Twit," Gimli grumbled under his breath as he turned back to look at the milling crowd around them.

Nur continued to grumble to himself before his elder brother came over, Bruni now growling something to the apologetic looking Skafid, who hung his head at the hulking cousin's tongue-lashing, still dangling off the ground.

"Nur!" Came an angry yell and they both turned to watch Nyrad stalk over to them. His many long blue braids snaking around his shoulders, clad in a fetching sky-blue tunic and black hose, his muscular legs clad in tall brown boots, he and Bruni no longer wearing their armor. Bruni wore a simple sleeveless brown shirt and trousers, with a thick belt and heavy boots.

"I am sooo telling Mother of what a little shit you've been!" Nyrad hissed, a scowl on his beautiful face, watching his shorter sibling stand up to confront him.

"I'm telling Mother!" Copied Nur in a smarmy imitation of his brother' smooth voice, even mimicking his motions as he rolled his eyes at the threat.

He barely managed to dodged the swat by his now growling brother in the next moment and was about to give a mocking 'Ha, ha! You missed!' When he gave a yelp instead, not being quick enough to avoid his brother's next move and received a swift kick in the bum.

Nyrad promptly grabbed his now cursing younger sibling by the ear, who was now hold his sore bum.

"Sit over by the packs and don't move until I tell you, ya bloody Brat!" he snarled, sending Nur firmly on his way. With his hands on his slim hips, he watched the grumbling Nur scuttle over to the massive pile of packs that Bruni had set down before flopping down to sulk, his arms crossed and his smooth face pinched in a childish pout. Satisfied the blue-haired Warrior turned to glance at the copper-haired Dwarf still sitting on the ground behind him, taking notice of his split lip and fresh bruises.

"What happened to you?" Nyrad asked, coming over and peering closer at him.

"Long story," Gimli snorted, waving him away and watching the beautiful indigo-eyed Dwarf give a shrug before moving off to join his hulking mate, who had just set Skafid back on his feet.

With a tired groan Gimli flopped back to lay on the ground, his hands behind his head like the dosing Draupnir next to him. Huo came to sniff around him, Gimli closing his eyes as the dog sniffed his face, but he let out a squawk when Huo decided to lay down too. Which meant laying himself across Gimli's face (6.)

After a few long moments and coming to the realization that the dog wasn't going to move any time soon, Gimli gave a muffled snort before he slowly sat up again. Huo rolled into his lap, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and seeming far to pleased with himself.

"Dumb dog!" Gimli muttered with a laugh, as he gently smushed and stretched the dog's face into various comical expressions (7.). The happily panting Huo seeming to love every minute as he lay lazily flopped over Dwarf's lap as Gimli now played with his floppy brown ears.

Over the next half hour Gimli waited with the others, Draupnir dosing and Kaya still quietly sowing next to him as he played with his dog, waiting for the guards to let them go in. The sun was starting its late afternoon decent as a chill breeze reminding them of the coming winter. It was almost time when Kaya, Draupnir and he finally got up and waited with the others of their camp, Notch and his family also getting up and joining the rest of the milling crowd.

It was during this time as they all anxiously waited in silence, excitement fluttering in their stomachs as they restlessly shifting on their feet, gazing longingly at the massive dark entrance to the Mountain. That the sweet notes of a soulful Dwarven flute suddenly cut through the air.

Brushing his long hair out of his eyes, Gimli looked over to his right and saw an older Dwarf, his rangy form clad in humble clothes of cheep weave, his long gleaming brown hair held away from his careworn face in a simple long tail down his back. A playful breeze gently tugging at it as he stood there atop a large boulder to the side of the entrance, his eyes closed and his face serene as he held the long wooden instrument to his lips. Filling the air with the haunting notes of his flute, it's familiar song full of sadness.

For long moments only the singing of the flute was heard, many of those that had been sitting or lounging got up to silently listen while others closed their eyes and turned their faces up into the sunlight, allowing the music to flow through them. It was not long before the first few voices began to sing, others joining them and soon the air was filled with many deep voices raised in harmonious song as the flute player played on, casting his spell.

__

Traveler, you must not look back.

Wander on where the wind takes you

The steps you take will guide you on your way

Journey on into the unknown

Yet there are memories you cannot forget

Though they may bring you to tears

Yet you must live on with all your might

Just think of the honor of your people and all your grief will vanish

Throw old notions by the wayside

Go, go, until you've touched the sunset

Look up towards those distant stars

Go, go, until you've smashed through the horizon

Most of the heavily armed guards and soldiers remained silent as they listened, including many of the other Dwarves that waiting to get into the Mountain, for only the Exiles and Wanderer's lifted their voices, for only they knew the words to sing it. The song sung by those remaining survivors that had fled the Mountain so long ago, a song they had created to comfort their weary spirits and steel their resolve as they wandered forth into the harsh world of arda, their fate uncertain.

Without even realizing he had, Gimli began to sing with those around him. Next to him Kaya, her mother, the FireBeard brothers, Draupnir and his brother had also raised their voices, though poor Draupnir could only hum through his red scarf. As Gimli sang, his deep smooth voice rising harmoniously with those around him, it felt as if a long used to and bitter ache slowly began to unwind it's self.

Was this not what so many of them had for so long wished for? What this not what so many here had truly fought for? Let the Elves and Men think what they will, let them think that the only motivation in their Dwarven hearts was that of gold or the Arkenstone, he cared not! For he and all those here knew the true reason… A home!

__

Traveler, I want to hear what you saw on your wandering

Someday, maybe we'll go home

Once you and I have fulfilled our dreams

Let our song ring on throughout the ages

Let the snow fly until the end of time

Search on for a golden season

Be as the color of twilight, a wondering dragonfly

Throw old notions by the wayside

Go, go until you've slashed through the sunset

Look back towards those distant memories

But live on to see another day

In the camps of the Wood-elves and Lake Men it had also became quiet as many stopped what they were doing and looked towards the Mountain where the strange melancholy song was coming from, the sound of it pulling on their hearts. Never had they heard this song and as they listened they came to realize that this song was unlike any Dwarven song they had heard before, and many where surprised to find themselves moved by the many raised voices. For they sang not of wealth or the deep places of the world, but of bitter longing, of loss, of steeling ones heart and continuing on.

__

There's a voice you can't forget

Though it may bring you to tears

Yet you must live on with all your might

Forget not their memories

Towards the unknown tomorrow you must go

Wonder on, traveler

Wonder on

As the song finally came to an end and the last notes of the flute had faded, the armored guards stepped back with a bow and motioned the crowd in. And so it was that the many Exiles quietly began to walk into the Mountain, looking about with eyes wide and faces full of wonder. Their hearts, pounding excitedly in their chests with the exalted realization that they where finally home. They were Exiles no longer.

Over head many of the remaining Ravens that had stayed to peck out a living in the surround Desolation of the Dragon, flew through the massive entrance and into the first hall. Many eagerly exploring the abandoned holes and nests honeycombing the walls of the first long hall. A few of the other Ravens that had followed their Dwarven companions from their various colonies and settlements, rode quietly upon their companion's shoulders or flew over head. Gimli made sure that Huo stayed close, not wanting the dog to get accidentally stepped on as they moved along with the crowd.

As Gimli and the others of his camp passed through the second entrance and into the first great hall, still dark and foul with the smell of Dragon, they began to spread out. Many stopping altogether to look about the massive echoing chamber. Bits of rotting furniture, tossed about wooden beams and rubble still cluttered the dirty and dust covered floors and walls. The massive windows which should have allowed the bright sunlight in had been blackened and incrusted with dirt and filth, the Dragon wanting his layer as dark as possible.

"Come, young ones! Let us do a little exploring," Frar barked to Kaya and Gimli as they looked around in wonder.

Gimli mutely nodded his head as he trailed after the two females, his large brown eyes darting around the cavernous room, searching for his father and uncle in the sea of bearded faces, but saw none of Thorin's motley company. He happened to glance at a group of soldiers working near a wall, partly hidden behind several massive pillars, still busy picking up what looked to be more charred debris to be carted away. It was then that one of the large soldiers stood up carefully holding something he had just picked up, a closer glance at the particularly weary looking soldier revealed that he held a blackened hollow-eyed scull in his hands.

Gimli quickly looked away, not wanting to see anymore as he realized what he had first thought was debris, was in fact a large pile of old charred bodies. As Gimli moved on, turning his back on the grizzly reminder of Smaug's occupation, he and his dog began to wander away from Lady Frar and the rest of his fellows from camp, determined to find his father and uncle.

Scarred Draupnir and his brother, along with Har, Griff, Bruni, Nyrad and the others began to disperse and explore on their own as well. Those Dwarves that had called the Iron Hills home looked around in appreciation, while the many Exiles and Wanderers looked around in open mouthed awe. The darkness, smell, destruction and filth could not cover the awesome grandeur that lay beneath. The many soldier continued to work, ignoring, for the most part, all the new arrivals as they went about opening all the many vents and doors to help air out the stink of the Dragon and the dank scent of mildew and old death. A particularly large group of soldiers was busy constructing some scaffolding so that they could begin the task of cleaning off the filth on the gigantic windows that allowed the sun and starlight into the Mountain.

It was unfortunate that in his impatient haste, Gimli had already wondered down one of the massive adjoining halls, for he just missed the arrival of most of Thorn's company from an opposite hall, coming out to greet the many new comers. Many stopping to give the members of Thorin's company their thanks and congratulation, giving the motley group respectful bows or asked them excited questions. This went on for a time until dark haired Nori and Ori fell quiet as the rest of their group continued to talk and laugh when they saw a hulking Matriarch approach them.

"Are you all of Thorin's company?" Lady Frar demanded standing before them, clad in her armor and weapons. The two big BlackLocks gave a simple nod after giving her a respectful bow.

"Good! Star, get over here and ask them about that sour father of yours!" She barked over her shoulder, a smug look on her face as she watched the Dwarves standing before her look back at her in blank confusion. But after a long pause and still no Gimli, her thick brows furrowed in irritation and she turned around expecting to see him right behind her, but saw only her daughter (who was not paying attention). Nei's son no where to be seen.

Kaya, feeling the prickle of eyes, finally looked up from fiddling with her sleeve, then also looked around. Not seeing the tanned copper-haired Dwarf nearby she looked back at her mother and gave a shrug of her shoulders.

"Where did he get to?" Frar snapped, looking around in annoyance for the handsome young male in the crowds of Dwarves nearby, with no luck. Ori and Nori shared a long look, but stayed respectfully silent before this large and clearly eccentric Dwarrow-dam.

"Wondered off to do a little exploring on his own," Har then said from nearby, the small cook stood with the now arguing Finn and Ginnar, pointing across the massive camber. "Saw the lad go down that hall over there."

"Well never mind then!" Frar snorted in irritation, throwing her hands up before turning to Thorin's motley group again with a glare. Ori and Nori took a cautious step back in the face of her irritation. Yet just as she was going to march off in disgust-- her attention fell on the newly arrived Dori, who at the moment was telling the others that he and a few volunteers were going to go help the soldiers out in clearing some of the heavier debris.

Kaya gave an internal groan and crossed her arms as she recognized the sudden hungry glint in her mother's dark eyes. Watching her mother appreciatively look the large ink-haired male up and down, her eyes roaming over the many black tattoos that covered Dori's massive muscular arms. Greatly liking what she saw, Frar then shoved both Ori and Nori aside and stalked over to the large BlackLock, the ink haired Dori being bigger then she, standing just short of Bruni's hulking size.

Dori, feeling the prickle of staring eyes, turned to see a large armored and rather unattractive Dwarrow-dam suddenly beside him, pressing rudely into his personal space. His dark-eyes went wide at the forward advances of the large predatory female, giving a panicked look around as Frar coyly batted her eyes at him and ran a teasing finger up his bare arm.

Seeing that none of his watching fellows, nor his two now snicker cousin's would offer him any help. He respectfully bowed to her, then he took a step back and averted his eyes, his posture stiff, Dwarven body language for not interested.

Frar's eyes narrowed dangerously at Dori's brush off, but she dropped her hand and silently stalked past him with a haughty sniff. Clearly agitated as she rudely shoved her way through the group, an apologetic Kaya silently trailing after her.

Perhaps because she was still annoyed at Gimli's disappearance and angry at Dori's brush off or perhaps she was just in a bullying mood, she then zeroed in on the only female member of Thorin's party. Who at the moment was laughing about something with her two cousins.

Upon seeing her, Frar walked over (shoving past the other members of Thorin's company) and made a point of knocking the smaller Dwarrow-dam with her broad shoulder.

Poor Bifur stumbled in surprise before she turned around to yell angrily at whoever had hit her, but upon seeing the much larger Warrior and the challenge in her eyes, the BroadBeam quickly scuttled back to huddle against her two cousins, her posture submissive. Bifur was much smaller then Lady Frar, being a few inches shorter the Kaya, who only rolled her eyes again at her mother's behavior.

On the scale of the female hierarchy Bifur was on the lowest end, being only a simple cook and trader and was no Warrior or Craft-Master, nor did she have any noble blood in her family. In the overall Dwarven hierarchy, she was little higher then that of an average fully grown male, it just so happened that she was also the lowest ranking female in her family, being the youngest daughter of two sisters, her mother and two aunts ruling their family.

Bifur continued to cautiously watch Lady Frar, her wide light-brown eyes weary, her bruised face blank as she pressed against her two cousins. The other members of Thorin's group also watched warily, waiting for the large Dwarrow-dam's next move, both Bofur and Bombur had also adopted the same posture as their cousin, their eyes dropped to the ground in a show supplication.

Apparently satisfied with her dominance, Lady Frar gave a satisfied snort and moved on, Kaya trailing after her. Bifur let out a deep sigh of relief as she turned and leaned heavily on Bombur who patted her back reassuringly, while the others watched Frar move on. Dori, Ori and Nori came over a moment later to offer their support before they wandered off to go help the soldiers.

-----------------------

Gimli meanwhile had been wondering through the Mountain with Huo faithfully at his side for the last two hours, with still no luck. Though he did get to see the pleasurable sight of watching Yngvi and his friends shoveling and carting away dragon shit with their unfortunate fellows in one of the large side chambers down one of the main halls. He also past a few dark corners where soft moans and gasps could be heard, more then once a quick glance revealed two lovers taking advantage of the darkness for a quick and heated encounter. Eventually though some of the older soldiers from Dain's army pointed him back in the direction of the upper main halls, promising him that if Thorin's company was anywhere, it was there.

He just so happened to be strolling through one of dark halls, looking around at the massive freezes and statuary in open-mouth appreciation, Huo padding next to him, his nails clicking on the stone floor. When he saw a familiar gray-robed figure with a tall staff and wearing a pointy hat, hurrying down the other way muttering to himself. He stopped and watched the figure walk past him, catching the being's unique and familiar scent of pipe-weed and the sharp smell after a lightning-storm.

"Gandalf!" he finally called out, a smile on his face, his heart gladdened to see the old Wizard hale.

The grey Istari instantly froze in his tracks, having been on his way to the throne room to discuss something with King Dain and his advisors.

"Gimli? He asked, whirling around, his one arm still in a simple sling. Sure enough standing in the middle of dark hall behind him was a scruffy looking Gimli, son of Gloin, bruised, skinny, wrung-out and grinning like a fool.

For long moments the Wizard looked him over before he gave a great sigh of relief as he leaned heavily against his tall staff, followed by a whispered "Thank the Valar!" How ironic that over the last few day he had hoped to talk to Gloin, but being so busy with the three armies and their respective Kings, he had been unable to find either he or Oin. After four days of looking through the various camps and the many wounded and still not seeing the young Dwarf, Gandalf had begun to fear the worst.

Unfortunately after a long beat the Wizard suddenly straitened to his full height and his countenance become stormy as he speared Gimli with a furious look in his ancient storm-grey eyes.

Gimli watched the Wizard loom over him and gave a audible gulp, suddenly feeling very small and rather scared.

"GIMLI, SON OF NEI AND GLOIN! WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!" Came the thunderous roar as the Wizard's grip tightened on his twisted staff and he began to advance menacingly on the now wide-eyed and frozen young Dwarf.

Being the sensible Dwarf he was, Gimli promptly turned tail and ran as fast as he could, leaving the fuming Wizard behind. Quickly deciding that he would find Gandalf again and properly apologize for his actions after the Istari had plenty off time to cool off. Huo raced along with him, whole heartedly agreeing with his two legged companion's sensible plan to run away from the strange gray monster behind them.

It was a good thing that non of Thranduil's people had been present to see, for they would have been shocked to just how fast a Dwarf can run; with the right kind of motivation. Gandalf meanwhile could only angrily watch for the second time in a row, as the young Dwarf, his long copper hair flying out behind him, race away at top speed with what appeared to be a dog right behind. And though he was quite angry, the Wizard couldn't deny the joy in his heart at knowing Gloin's son was alright and clearly not badly hurt; judging by his speed. For in truth, he had begun to think the worst and dreaded to tell Gloin that his son had managed to survive under such incredible odds, only to die in the battle later.

Gimli could hear the angry Wizard's litany of threats and bellows get further and further away as he raced down various passage ways, dodging past other Dwarves and obstacles.

He had been racing down one hall when, what could only be a Hobbit, came around the corner. The poor curly-haired creature froze at the sight of the charging Dwarf, giving a loud squeak of fright. Seeing that he had no time to stop Gimli simply leap-frogged over the small cringing halfling and continued on without missing a beat.

"Comm'in through!" he called over his shoulder, the brown dog that ran next to him gave a few happy barks.

"Well I never!" Bilbo said indignantly, standing up again and glaring after the very rude Dwarf. "I shall most assuredly not put this incident in my book!" He huffed as he turned to brush imaginary dust from his vest, one of his hands unconsciously going to his pocket to make sure his hidden ring was still safely within.

As Gimli continued to run, he got to thinking that maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to have gone against Gandalf wishes and knock the Istari on his bum days before. But even as he thought about it, he knew he would have done it anyway-- just maybe not the whole knocking Gandalf off his feet thing…

It was only after he was sure he was far enough away, that Gimli finally slowed to a walk again.

In all his running, he just so happened to find himself in one of the smaller passageways near the secret entrance that Thorin and the rest of his party had used many days before to sneak in into the Mountain, thanks to the Thrush and Bilbo's quick thinking.

With a laugh Gimli reached down and gave the scruffy brown mutt panting at his side a loving pat. "Well, how's that for sayin' hello for ya?" he whispered conspiratorially to the dog, that cocked it head at him, seeming to understand.

"Bark!"

"You said it, lad," Gimli snickered, a rye smile on his short bearded face as he rubbed the dog's head before they both moved on down the passage at a more leisurely pace.

It was then, coming around a corner that Gimli spotted a Dwarf, who could only be Bombur standing on the doorstep of the open entrance, enjoying the fresh air as he looked out. Seeing him, Gimli quickly ducked back around the corner so he wouldn't be spotted.

Bombur wore his pale-green hood and he was clad once again in his dusty and faded traveling clothes, his large gut hanging over his thick belt, a handful of sweets in his hand. Bombur's light brown hair was very short for a Dwarf, who as a race prided themselves on their long thick hair as well as their beards. Bombur's hair just brushed his shoulders, held back from his round face with some twine. His beard was also a bit odd, growing only along jaw, leaving most of his fat round face bare. His beard was also rather short thanks to a bad cooking accident. By Dwarf standards Bombur was not attractive, aside from his obvious corpulence, which was greatly looked down upon in a society of workers and fighters, he also had to contend with the lowly position of a cook. With his chubby face and odd stunted beard and his winy demeanor he was considered by many Dwarves as flat out unattractive. Luckily Bombur cared more for food then he did other peoples opinions, so this did not seem to bother him in the least.

At the moment the BroadBeam cook was lost in thought as he waited for Bifur and Bofur to join him, having no idea that he was being watched from nearby.

Watching the fat Dwarf pop a butterscotch into his mouth, reminded Gimli that he had not had a single sweet or candy since he had left the House of the Red Blossoms in Ocendade many months back. His large brown eyes flashed predatorily as he hungrily ran his tongue across his top lip as he watched the cook pop another treat into his mouth. Thinking of candy also made him remember the past and think about Ulfr, who had a major sweet tooth when it came to peppermints.

Back in Black Hallow sugar was such a valuable commodity, along with salt and meat. There just never seemed to be enough of it. He could remember when there would be long periods between the food shipments brought from neighboring Shiprock by cart, there would be a mad rush by the Men and Dwarves that worked the mine to trade their meager earnings for flour, sugar, meat and salt from the various traders and caravans that would periodically past through the dreary mining town. Every now and then his father would be able to scrape a little extra together and buy a small brick of peppermint. Like a precious bar of mithril Gloin would chip off small pieces for them to enjoy, carefully portioning it, trying to make it last as long as possible.

It was with both fondness and bitter sadness he remember how many times he would save his small piece until later when he would sit with Maya and Ulfr behind the tavern or up in the hayloft in the old barn sharing the small piece of candy as they talked. The raven-haired Maya laughing that kisses always tasted better after sucking on peppermint as Gimli lazily rested his head in her lap while she idly played with the end of his braid, Ulfr lounging nearby, all of them daydreaming of better things.

As for Bombur, he and Ulfr had made it their solemn duty to help unburden the fat cook of any extra sweets during festivals or the few times the BroadBeam came through Black Hollow with his two cousins. And now as Gimli silently spied on the unsuspecting Dwarf, watching him eat, Gimli decided that he could really go for something sweet too.

Poor Bombur never knew what hit him

"BOMBUR!" Came a sudden yell from behind him. Causing the fat Dwarf to jump in surprise, his round eyes to flying wide-open, the butterscotch he was about to toss in his mouth, promptly missed and fell into his beard.

Bombur managed to turn his head-- just in time to be sprung upon by a seeming blur of flashing eyes and copper hair as a muscled body suddenly pounced on him. His assailant then proceeded to climb on him like a manic squirrel on a tree trunk as riffling hands dug through his many pockets. This was followed by, what sounded like a dog barking, which further disoriented him.

Caught completely off balance, Bombur could offer no defense against the sudden assault as he let out a yell and fell heavily back, finding himself flat on his back on the floor, his head spinning. This didn't seem to bother his assailant any as they simply hopped off and knelt next to him and continued to raffle through the pockets of his tunic and the compartments on his belt as he lay there stunned and gasping.

"Hah!" Came a triumph yell a few seconds later, as who ever it was apparently found what they were looking for. "I knew you holding out on me!"

Bombur could only stare up at the ceiling in a daze, when a familiar tanned face came into view, looking down on him with a wicked smile. Poor Bombur could only gape at what could only be Gloin's son's ghost.

"My thanks Master Bombur for the sweets!" The ghost smirked, taking a candy from the small bag it held before popping it into it's mouth. Rudely helping it's self to poor Bombur's secret stashes of peppermints and butterscotches that he had been jealously saving since their stay in Lake Town.

But before Bombur could begin to wonder what a ghost would want with his candy, he promptly began to sputter when his second attacker pounced, the overly friendly and playful dog proceeding to slobber all over his face. Unfortunately for Bombur, to add insult to injury, the dog soon discovered the butterscotch still tangled him his beard.

Needless to say this was followed by a yell of pain as the dog yanked out some of his hair as it snapped up the treat. Not understanding the dog then returned to slobber all over the now struggling and cursing cook's face.

From where he stood nearby, Gimli couldn't help but laugh out loud at the sight. Finally getting his mirth under control he decided to take pity on the fat Dwarf rolling around on the floor, his arms waving about as he tried to fend off Huo's slobbering wet tongue

"Common lad!" He called as he took a small handful of candies from Bombur's stash before synching the small bag up again and tossing it back at the struggling cook on the ground. As he jogged away, the dog immediately stopped it's attack on poor Bombur before happily racing after his copper-haired companion. The two continued down the passage way and took a left turn down a larger corridor lined with painted murals of flowering fields with smoky mountains in the back ground. As Gimli jogged past, his head turned to look at the long mural, he couldn't help be reminded of the hills and fields of his childhood.

Gimli and the dog however came to a skidding stop around the corner to the next hall, almost crashing into a startled Bifur and Bofur.

For a long pregnant pause the two BroadBeams clad in their faded yellow hoods and dusty clothes stared at him in wide-eyed shock before one of the two threw back their hood, revealing Bifur's bruised face as a big beautiful smile pulled up her plump lips.

"Gimli!" she cried joyfully, stepping forward and drawing him into a hug, which Gimli eagerly returned.

"Bifur!" he laughed, grinning like a fool as he picked up the small Dwarrow-dam in his arms and giving her a twirl. Bofur by now had also thrown back his hood, still not quite believing his eyes.

"Gimli, you rascal!" she laughed after he put her down again, reaching out to fussily brush some of his hair off his face. "We should have known nothing could have taken you down," she said with wonder as she looked him over, noticing with some concern the many changes in him since last she saw him. Bofur had by now had gotten over his initial shock and limped over to join them, laying a warm hand on Gimli's arm, like his cousin he was all smiles.

"Bofur, Bifur, it's good to see you both," Gimli said, grinning like a fool. Huo wandered around the three of they talked, the slim brown dog stopping every now and then to sniff at a particular spot or object.

"Has Bombur seen you yet?" Bofur asked, standing next to his cousin.

"Aye, that he has!" Gimli snickered as he glanced over his shoulder before looking back at the two light-brown haired Dwarves before him. "He even kindly decided to share some of his stash of sweets with me."

Hearing this caused Bofur to chuckle, while Bifur put her hands on her slim hips and tisked him.

"Really, Gimli! You know better, you shouldn't pick on him like that," she admonished, waggling a scolding finger at the totally unapologetic young Dwarf who popped a peppermint in his mouth before offering both of them the two candies he had left.

Both she and Bofur however immediately took one of the treats. Bombur might be family, but she and Bofur knew their corpulent cousin never _willing_ shared his stash of peppermints and butter scotches with anyone. And both BroadBeams had seen in the past how Gimli and his friend Ulfr had gotten the fat Dwarf to _supposedly_ share with them in the past. Which meant ganging up on the corpulent Dwarf and rifling through the cook's pockets, while easily dodging poor Bombur's pathetic attempts of escape and flailing defense. As much as they disapproved of poor Bomber's harassment, they couldn't deny it was one of the funniest things to watch!

Bifur and her family were in no way related to Gimli's and though they had a steady home in the Halls of Ered Luin, both she and Bofur traveled extensively. Especially to the Shire for shipments of pipe-weed and other Hobbit products, many times stopping to visit or stay a few days with Gloin's family. The two BroadBeams had also been Oin's friends before Gloin and Nei had been banished from the halls by Dis. Bombur however hardly ever left the safety of the small Dwarven city, and had only insisted on coming on the Quest after he learned of the possibility of a portion of the treasure.

"You did it! I can't believe it, your heroes!" Gimli said excitedly to them. "Everyone thought you wouldn't even make it to the Mountain."

"Shows what they be know' in!" sniffed Bofur, proudly raising his chin, Bifur next to him nodding her head.

"I, for one, never doubted," said Gimli.

"Sure ya did! Ya ain't fooling us none," laughed Bofur, punching Gimli in the arm.

"Ouch! That's quite the bruise, Bifur. Are ya alright?" Gimli then asked with a wince, finally noticing the dark bruise that cover one whole side of Bifur's smooth face.

"Right as rain!" she laughed, waving away his concern. Unconsciously raising a broad hand to her discolored face before turning her attention back to the young male.

"What of you? Thought I was seeing a ghost!" Bofur suddenly barked, Bifur quickly shaking her head in agreement.

Gimli shifted on his feet and reached up to rub the back of his neck as a very tired and weary look came over his handsome face. "It's… It's a very long story," was the only thing he said and seeming right before their eyes the wild young Dwarf they knew as Gimli seem to change into someone else. In that moment Bofur and Bifur saw not young Gimli, but the quiet vision of his fiery mother before them.

"Enough of this!" Bifur suddenly said after a long uncomfortable moment, breaking the suddenly morose mood. "Where's my head?" she snorted to herself, shaking her head and causing her long thick ponytail to whip about behind her.

"There will be plenty of time to talk later!" She nearly shouted, turning back to Gimli, who stood there looking at her confused.

"Ya must go find your father and uncle! They be drown' in in their sorrow as we speak, lad! We all thought you dead!" she hurriedly explained. And before Gimli could open his mouth to reply the two older Dwarves were already herding him down the passage way, Huo trotting merrily after.

"Be off with you! Go down that hall and to the right!" Bifur pointed out, as Bofur shoved him in the same direction. Without a further word Gimli quickly did as told, his heart once again filled with excitement at seeing his family again.

The two Dwarves watched him give them a final wave before he and the dog race down the hall, his thick copper braid snaking behind. They continued to watch until he had disappeared before they turned to collect their cousin, who they could now hear angrily cursing and sputtering around the corner.

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Down the next dark hall Gimli slowed to a jog looking this away and that, but aside from the group of talking soldier, he saw no sign of his father or uncle.

"My father, Gloin? Gloin and Oin, two of Thorin's company, are they amongst you?" he hurriedly asked some of the soldiers, after giving them a quick respectful bow.

"Sorry lad, not seen'em since Oakenshield's funeral," one large red-haired Warrior rumbled.

Gimli gave them his thanks and jogged off again, searching the rest of the large hall and then the nearby halls before finally calling out.

"Da! Da, uncle Oin!" He called, having paused before a massive pillar carved to look like a huge oak tree, its many branches retching into the gloom of the ceiling above.

Gimli continued to call out, looking this way and that, his voice echoing down the many dark halls. But no answer came, the many sculptures seeming to quietly listen from where they stood, their stony faces made sorrowful by the deep shadows.

"Gimli!" someone suddenly cried incredulously from nearby, causing Gimli to pause and look around for the speaker.

Gimli turned to his left to see Balin in his ever present red hood, step out from one of the shadowed passageway that lined the hall, drawn by his calls. Seeing that he was seeing no apparition the white-haired Dwarf let out a joyous exclamation, his bright indigo eyes wide in happy surprise and hurried over to him.

"Balin!" Gimli cried joyfully, embracing his white-haired relative and feeling his embrace returned with equal force.

"I can't believe it! How can this be!" the old Dwarf whispered in astonishment, putting a tender hand to Gimli's smooth cheek.

"We heard of Black Hollow and your demise. Your father be sick from grief of it!" Balin said, stepping back and holding him at arms length, his expression serious again.

Gimli quickly nodded his head, "I'm looking for him. Bifur and Bofur said he and uncle Oin where down this hall, but they are not here!" He explained with a frown, running a broad hand through his thick hair as he looked around the dark hall again.

"Come! I know where your father and uncle be," Balin said excitedly, motioning for the young Dwarf to follow him as he quickly moved down the hall before turning left. With the exception of the periodic lit torch hanging from the wall now and then, most of the halls and passageways were dark, luckily this caused neither Gimli nor Balin any problems with their dark-adapted eyes.

Balin then lead them down another intersecting hall that was guarded over by a massive white marble sculpture of Celebrimbor that seem to softly glow in the glum. The ancient Elven-smith held his forging hammer in one hand as his other was raised, reaching out to the matching black marble sculpture of Narvi across the hall, who also reached out for the other, his chisel held in his other broad stone hand. The two massive sculptures stared beseechingly at each other across the space between them. Rendered in wondrous detail, the ancient Elf and Dwarf looked as if they would step off their stone pedestals at any moment and run to one another.

For some odd reason as he followed Balin between them, Gimli found himself compelled to slow down as he looked up at them. Like all Dwarves, he knew the story of the two star-crossed Master Smiths and their forbidden love. As Gimli continued to look up at the tragic lovers, he couldn't help but harrumph in disgust as he rolled his eyes at the beseeching pair.

_Narvi, you where a utter fool! You wouldn't catch me falling in love with one of those haughty, selfish and cold hearted creatures! _He sneered to himself as he glared up at the smooth white marble face towering above him. Remembering his own encounter with Elves as he sat dieing on the side of that lonely road towards Telgor a seeming lifetime ago. _Falling in love with an Elf, Phaw! That will be the day an Elf openly welcomes me and treats me with respect! _He bitterly laughed to himself.

With a derisive snort Gimli looked back in the direction of Balin's retreating back, he was about to continue on when there was a strange crunch from under his foot. He paused to look down, moving his boot back to see what he had stepped on. To see of all odd things, a slender green leaf partly crushed from his heavy boot. The strangest thing however, was that it was not crumpled or dried, but still fresh, seeming just plucked from a tree.

He looked around in utter confusion, how in arda had a leaf gotten down here? A green leaf at that! With the exception of his, Balin's and the dog's foot prints, the layer of dust on the floor of the dark hall looked undisturbed.

Reaching down, he picked up the delicate leaf to look at it puzzlement. As he stood there studying it, whispers seem to swirl around him in the darkness as shiver ran up his spine. Forgotten at his feet Huo too had become very still and quiet as he leaned against the young Dwarf's leg for comfort, his big ears perked as if he too could hear voices as he looked around.

It was in that moment that Gimli suddenly found himself again compelled to look up and as he did all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Above him the massive statues of Celebrimbor and Narvi were now looking down on him, their dark stone eyes suddenly seeming to stare at him as if they had actually heard his thoughts. The slender green leaf fell from his suddenly slack fingers, forgotten as it fluttered to the floor. All Gimli could do was stare wide-eyed back up at them as his heart began to pounded in his chest as he told himself he couldn't be seeing what he was seeing.

_This can't be real_! He chanted to himself, as the sculptures continued to watch him in seeming amusement now. Their closed stone lips seeming to curl as their carved hair and clothing seem to move with an invisible breeze, their great bodies drawing breath. With a great effort, Gimli looked away and closed his eyes, giving his head a hard shake. He then put his hands to his head as he forced his breathing to calm, before opening his eyes and forcing himself to look up again.

The two massive sculptures were stone once more, once again staring beseechingly across the distance at one another, tools in hand.

_It must have been a trick of the darkness. _He told himself as he ran his hand through his thick hair as looked back and fourth between the two peaceful statues. _That or I'm losing my mind!_

"Gimli!" came Balin's sudden call, jolting him back to reality.

With a final confused and rather nervous look around he hurried to catch up to Balin, Huo at his heel.

As he left the two massive marble sculptures behind, he failed to notice that the strange green leaf he had dropped had vanished as if it had never been.

"There you are!" Balin said in clear relief after Gimli had caught up with him again. The white-haired Dwarf reached out to lay a reaffirming hand on his shoulder, giving it a loving squeeze.

"For a moment… When I looked behind and saw you not there. I thought for a moment you really had been a sprit, come to play a cruel joke on me," He explained with a weak smile, his dark indigo eyes full of sadness.

"Fear not Balin, I am truly here! I am flesh," Gimli reassured, laying a warm hand on Balin's arm, a lop-sided smile on his smooth handsome face.

"And so you are," Balin chuckled softly, patting Gimli's hand before turning once again to continue their journey, Gimli right behind.

After a few more turns, Balin lead them into one of the larger lower halls, this one lined with many carved pillars that looked like giant trees, their stone branches seeming to hold up the ceiling. With the exception of a simple lamp that seemed to have been abandoned in the middle of the echoing hall, the massive space remained cloaked in shadows.

By the light of that single lamp Gimli could see the depiction of rolling hills and a herd of wild horses in full flight running along the expansive walls. Unconsciously Gimli gulped at the sight of the massive reliefs as his large dark almond-shaped eyes looked up at the stone beasts that galloped along the wall before plunging into the deep shadows down the hall. Gimli could almost hear their shrill trumpeting and the thunder of their pounding hooves.

_Of all the dark halls Da could have picked-- it had to be the one with monstrous horses!_ he grumbled to himself.

"Balin, can you watch my dog for me?" He asked quietly, finally forcing himself to take his eyes away from the stone horses and turn back to the snow-haired Dwarf now waiting behind him. Internally chiding himself for his old fear as he knelt down and petted Huo, who happily nuzzled his chest and licked his face.

"Fear not, I'll watch your friend here," Balin promised with a gentle smile on his careworn face, his many thick white braids snaking about his shoulders. The dog happily wagged it's tail and butted Balin's work-worn hand as he came over, the dog immediately sensing his kindness.

"Now go," older Dwarf urged as he knelt down next to the scruffy brown mutt. Gently holding the animal back as Gimli got up and took a deep breath before stepping out into the dark hall, his heart singing with excitement.

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Gloin sat slumped against the cold stone wall of the dark hall he and his brother had wandered into. Feeling so terribly old and lost, a strange numbness having seeped into his very being as his dark-eyes stared off into the shadows as old memories danced through his mind. He had no more tears left, no more voice left to cry, now he simply sat and stared. Oin huddled next to him, his dark-haired head resting on his shoulder dosing, his crying over. Both their long raven hair and beards where loose and unbraided, messy from their anguished rending earlier, now they both sat silently, lost in the darkness of their pain.

"Da! Da are you here?" came a sudden call.

With a sharp intake of air, Gloin's head snapped up, his dark eyes confused. Was he going mad? _That sounded just like.._

Next to him, Oin finally stirred and sat up, rubbing some sleep from his puffy eyes, wiping the remaining wetness from his eyes. Allowing Gloin to slowly get up and crawl the few feet to look around the massive pillar they hid behind.

After angrily brushing his loose hair out of his face, his large brown eyes grew wide with shock and he had to put a hand on the stone pillar next to him for support as he watched what could only be a ghost slowly making its way down the long hall. Their abandoned lamp backlighting the spirit's distinctive dark copper-hair, the large almond-shaped eyes, the strong beautiful featured face so like his mother's. Gloin didn't bother to turn when he heard Oin join him and look over his shoulder, a moment later he felt Oin stiffen and gasp in surprise, also apparently seeing the apparition.

"Gimli?" He whispered in a chocked voice, afraid to speak too loudly incase it might cause the vision to disappear.

He watched the copper-haired ghost continue to wonder slowly down the hall, pausing every now and then for a closer at a sculpture or a weary glance at the towering depictions of the galloping horses on the wall to the side of him, clearly searching for someone.

"Gimli!" He finely managed to cry, scrambling up. His heart hammered in his chest, frightened that the spirit of his child would disappear at any moment. Next to him he could feel Oin do the same, holding onto his shoulder with a trembling hand.

The apparition instantly snapped their way, fiery eyes wide. And both he and Oin held their breath, but the vision did not vanish.

"Gimli… Is--is it truly you, boy?" Gloin managed to get out of his constricted throat as he and the still silent and wide-eyed Oin lurched out of the shadow of the pillar they had been curled in. Still not quite believing what he was seeing, Gloin was not looking where he was going and suddenly tripped, falling heavily to his knees, but he took no mind as he threw out a trembling hand, reaching out to the spirit.

"Gimli!"

"Da! Uncle Oin!" Came the answering cry, the look of surprise melting away into pure joy as the young Dwarf raced over to them, his copper hair flying out behind him. He fell to his knees and skidded the last two feet to his father and uncle who immediately caught him in a crushing embrace.

Gimli could hardly breath, but he didn't care, his nose filled with the smell of his father and uncle as he basked in their solid warmth. After all that had happened…he was finally home!

"Bless Mahal! You have returned to us!" Oin cried joyously, kissing Gimli's cheek as he combed his hair off his smooth face.

"I thought I had lost you!" Gloin wept in joy, petting Gimli's copper hair. For long moments the three of them stayed in a tight knot on the floor. Then Gimli untangled himself long enough to give Oin a crushing embrace before returning to his father's arms.

Slowly after a time Gloin began to feel the difference in the body he held, feeling how under weight it was. He opened his eyes and happened to catch Oin's worried ones, who had just looked up from frowning at the many thick scars that covered Gimli's tanned shoulders. Gloin's eyes narrowed and he felt his anger flare as he instantly recognized them as cuts from poisoned orc blades, the longer and slimmer scars over Gimli back and forearms as healed over lash marks. As well as the many more recent cuts and bruises, including a split lip.

Gimli had miraculously survived, but had not come away unscathed.

Gloin gently pushed his son back, then reached up and held Gimli's face in his large callused hands, his once joyful expression becoming thoughtful and terribly sad.

"You have changed… You are my son yet… You are not the same child I left behind as I walked away from that accursed mining town." Gloin murmured to himself, studying his child's face.

"You look so much like your mother, now you even have her eyes… her fire."

"You are the very image of her," He said reverently. His dark-eyes roaming over Gimli young face as his son silently watched him with large brown eyes that were not the same ones he had looked into a year before.

Without a further word Gloin got up and moved them all back. Sitting back against the wall before he fiercely gathered both Gimli and Oin to him, and there they silently stayed for a long time in the dark. Their Quest, all the trials they had gone through, the treasure and the very Mountain itself; it all meant absolutely nothing to Gloin then. The only thing that mattered in all of arda was what was in his arms right now, the greatest treasure of all.

As for Gimli, he found his long journey finally over, the beginning of a new life before them and for the first time in a long time he felt safe and loved…

__

This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful and talented Little My.

_Finally! It's almost over, just the epilog to go and this story is officially done !_

(1.) The War of Dwarves and Orcs

(2.) Nuggies, the bane of all younger siblings.

(3.) The idea of Dwarves giving one another special gilded collars instead of engagement rings, was a wonderful idea I got from Soledad.

(4.) The idea that Dwarves from the Stone Foot clans would be predominantly blond, was another idea I stole from Soledad .

(5.) Dwarven sign language

(6.) My old dog would do this whenever I would lay on the ground. sniff I miss my old dog, she was such a sweetie.

(7.) If you have ever had a big dog with a droopy face, you know what I'm talking about.


	17. Epilogue

Title: Of Fire and Stars (Part 13)

Author: Ro

Warnings: Some angst, nudity, sexual situations and bad language.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. With the exception of a few of the original characters, all characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (who's probably spinning in his grave as we speak).

Summary: Gandalf finds out what happened to Gimli in the year while he and Thorin's company were away on their Quest. Takes place during "The Hobbit", don't like Dwarves or Gimli then don't read this fic!

Notes: This is based on the books, NOT the movies.

More notes: Again, this chapter has not been beta-read yet. So yes, there are LOTS of mistakes. Please bare with me.

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"Epilogue"

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_"From the smallest spark may burst a mighty flame."_

Under a dark moonless sky the quiet towns of Dale and Lake Town slept, most of its people lost in the land of dreams. Only a few still up preparing for the new day or finishing up some last minuet thing. Others wandered the dark streets, some prowling for any unwary victim or walked slowly along the alleyways hopping to entice a customer as others drowned their sorrows in a bottle of cheap ale. It was hard to imagine the not a year before both towns had been nothing but ruin, the destruction from the Dragon and the following battle still fresh in the hearts of all that lived there. A shiver going up their spines whenever the weather was right and the lake became mirror smooth, for under its calm surface the rotting corpse of Smaug could be seen, the gold and jewels that had covered his long belly glittering enticingly below. Yet no matter how wondrous that treasure must be, none had the bravery to dive below those icy waters to take it, for even in death all feared the Dragon still.

With the determination of the town's people and the help of an army of Dwarven builders, Lake Town had been fully rebuilt, bigger and more stable then it had ever been before. Stretching out into the dark Long Lake on many thick stone and wooden pillars, a few boats to be seen floating on the inky surface of the lake as their owners fished by the light of lamps.

Farther up, in the shadow of the Mountain, the town of Dale was almost completely rebuilt, new buildings seeming to go up every few days. The happy sound of Dale's many famous bells having returned, their merry chiming seeming to gladded all the hearts to hear them, welcoming all travelers. Around the Mountain itself where it had once been the bare and scorched earth of the Dragon's desolation, it was now green with lush grass and many young trees, the plant life and animals returning to the Mountain again.

In the valley below the once gory and grim battlefield where so many had lost their lives in the Battle of Five Armies, their were now rich fields of grass and flowers. Where once Men, Dwarves and Elves had fought against the hoards of goblins, orcs and wargs, the towns children ran and played as the adults tended fields and planted gardens. The valley was a bloom in new life, many young saplings having taken root, the life blood of the many who had fallen there enriching the soil, continuing the ever turning cycle of death and renewal.

As for the Mountain Kingdom, it had been transformed from the dark and miserable place Bilbo had seen, to a place of wonder. Their had been much rebuilding and repair in the past year, with still more repairs to be made, but once again the Mountain halls where filled with light, life and people, the massive windows clean and free of Smaug's grime allowing the stars and sunlight to stream in once again. Though the scent of the Dragon and old death still stubbornly clung to some dark chambers and halls, a grim reminder of Smaug's foul occupation and all those lost to his terrible claws and fiery breath.

With the Mountain retaken many Dwarves had begun to migrate back to the Lonely Mountain, including Dain's Queen and family, his younger brother taking over the Kingship of the Iron Hills, since Dain was now King Under the Mountain.

Amongst the weary Exiles, Wanderers and the many other Dwarves that had made their way to the Mountain, came two survivors of the destroyed mining town of Black Hollow, having made their long journey from the small town of Telgor. It had been four months after the death of the Dragon and the following battle that a young Dwarf of only fifty-nine years, with a soft-featured face, curly light-brown hair and large haunted honey-brown eyes walked next to a larger and older Dwarf. Who was only sixty-three years of age with long coal-black hair and weary beetle-black eyes, on his back he carried their pack of meager things, one of his big hands lovingly clasped his companion's as they walked up to the Mountain on the newly repaired road. The two young Dwarves had come to start new lives at the Mountain, believing that they had been the only ones to escape the destruction of Black Hollow. They were both, understandably, quite shocked when they found a copper-haired ghost from the past waiting there to greet them before the massive entrance to the Mountain .

For many long moments none moved or said anything, until Nidi slowly walked forward, briefly having to stop and gently get Svior to release his hand before he continued forward to the apparition. Hesitantly reaching out with a trembling hand and placinging it slowly on Gimli's chest, finding the copper-haired Dwarf real, made of warm flesh and not vapor. The small, almost delicate seeming Dwarf let out a happy cry before embracing his thought lost friend, Gimli happily returning the gesture, tears of joy threatening to spill from his almond-shaped eyes.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you, Nidi!" He whispered around a sudden lump in his throat as he watched Nidi's sweet face light up at his words.

"Gimli, you moron! We thought you dead," Svior suddenly growled, his black-eyes flashing as the two Dwarves in front of him stepped back from one another and looked his way. Hearing this, Gimli only cocked a copper-eyebrow at him, turning to face the other expectantly. Another long minute ticked by before the larger black-haired Dwarf shrugged off his pack and stormed over to the other Dwarf, Nidi watching it all with wide-eyes, not saying a word as Gimli held his ground.

"Come here you addle-brained shit-head!" Svior suddenly laughed, gathering the other male into a crushing hug. Gimli laughed as well while the two fiercely held one another, heavily pounding on one another's back, both of them smiling as they stepped back, hands still on the other's shoulder. Nidi coming to loving lean on Svior's right side as the three of them stood their on the stone road before the open entrance of the Mountain, basking in their unexpected reunion, still a bit in shock.

After awhile though they fell silent and the air around them became heavy again, their smiles soon disappearing before Svior spoke up.

"The others?" Was the only thing said, though by sound of his deep voice and the look in his dark-eyes, there was little hope.

Nidi and Svior watched a terrible weariness settle over Gimli's broad shoulders as deep sorrow momentarily darkened his features before the copper-haired Dwarf closed his eyes and solemnly shook his head. Both Svior and Nidi dropped their eyes in grief as well before all three looked up again, it was then that Gimli motion for the them to follow him. As Gimli lead his two friends past the heavily armed guards and through the massive entrance and into the first outer hall, he told them how, for the price of two gold coins, he had asked two Ravens called Tay and Ray to keep an eye out for them and let him know when they where to arrive.

As Svior and Nidi followed Gimli through the first long hall they watched their friend wave and give his thanks to two male Ravens perched outside one of the decorated nest holes that honeycombed the walls. The two sleek black birds, croaked a greeting back before they went back to bickering over the quality of their nesting material. Ray apparently hated it, finding the coarse hay his brother had brought home and lined their nest with unacceptable, especially when they had a fresh bundle of newly fleeced wool they could use! While Tay, apparently having simpler tastes then his brother, thought the hay perfectly fine. The three Dwarves walked past the arguing brothers and the many other Raven nests and through the second set of massive doors into the Mountain, for the rest of that day Gimli happily wandered around with his friends as they excitedly explored their new home.

Later with Gloin's help, Svior and Nidi enquired a comfortable residence near Gimli's family in a modest dwellings on the third level of the Mountain by the clear underground lake. This section of the Mountain was where most of the regular workers, warriors and various smiths lived, many luminescent plants and mosses to be seen in small gardens or here and there, left to grow on their own.

Nyrad and Bruni's large family had also moved into one of the larger homes of the third level, in fact all the Dwarves Gimli had camped with had taken up residence on the same level. And with the exception of a few, most of the remaining members of Thorin's company had also moved into this modest section of the city. Only Bombur, Bofur and Bifur and the rest of their large family had moved into one of the larger mansion in the more opulent area on the fourth level, favored by the upper-classes and those of noble-blood. The snow-haired Balin and his elder brother Dwalin also live in the nicer section near King Dain's massive mansion, but it was more out of convenience then anything else since the two scholars where now advisors in Dain's court and counsil.

Though Gloin and Oin were now Lords and heroes with much wealth, being head of their small family, Gloin had decided on a fairly modest dwelling, with only four bedroom, a study and several smaller rooms that they used for their workshop and storage, including a small forge and a large living room with a great stone hearth that acted as their combined dinning room and kitchen. The months would pass as the reconstruction continued, with many of the newly arrived Dwarves getting use to their new lives as they forged new relationships and schedules as newer Dwarves arrived every week.

Most nights found the raven-haired Gloin sitting before their large stone hearth with Huo, the brown dog laying contently curled at his feet on the thick bearskin rug. Some times Oin or Gimli would quietly sit with him, but for the most part Gloin wished to be alone with his thoughts, idly smoking his pipe as he watched the dancing flames in the hearth, lost in memories of the past, loved ones long gone. Amongst the black of his hair and beard, strands of white were beginning to appear and no doubt his thick raven-hair would soon be the color of snow, even though he was quiet hale and had many more long years to go. A stark testament at how badly his heart had suffered when he had thought his only remaining child dead. Oin being more outgoing could be found most nights with Dori, Nori, Ori and Bifur and Bofur, in the main upper halls or in the local pub on the third level. As for Gimli, the copper-haired Dwarf could be anywhere on any given night, which included Dale or Lake Town, usually with the mute Draupnir and Kaya, as well as some of his newer friends along .

Yet this very night as the Men of Dale and Lake Town slept under a dark moonless sky, the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain reveled deep within their Mountain halls, for this was a special night.

In a massive chamber lined with towering murals that disappeared up into the darkness of the ceiling above, many of the Dwarves of the Mountain had gathered. The chamber was uses mainly as a trading area and market place, the damage wrought by the Dragon had long ago cleaned and repaired, now the many booths and vendors stalls that had been there the day before hawking their wares, had been cleared away to make space for the celebration. Many massive barrels of fine ale had been brought in, lined up against one wall, many of those celebrating already well into their cups, being loud and blusterous. Enjoyed one another's company, raising heavy mugs of dark ale as they toasted one another for any silly reason, their spirits high as they laughed and talked. Yet most there danced around the many large roaring bonfires set up around the dark chamber, with the exception of the five large fires, the chamber had no light, the walls covered in many undulating and leaping shadows.

In four areas of the cavern above the moving crowd on specially made platforms, sat massive drums, on each drum was a powerfully built Dwarf, their tightly muscled bodies dripping with sweat, wearing nothing but loincloths as they furiously beat on the massive drums. Their thickly-corded arms drumming out a thundering rhythm in perfect sync with the other drums in the cavern as heavy muscles rippled across their broad backs with each movement, their long hair held back from their faces with thick bands of leather. It was also on these platforms that smaller drums and other instruments where played in time with the pounding tempo, several Dwarves dressed similarly to the others waited nearby by a large bucket of cool water, ready to take over when one of the drummers tired, taking turns. For some songs a singer would stand up and belt out a song, their booming voices able to carry over the crowd below with the rest of the blasting instruments as they sang.

Unlike the famous Dwarven festivals and celebrations held every year outside under the open sky, no outsiders were welcomed here, with the exceptions of a few foundlings (1.). For on this night, the night of the New Moon, they celebrated Durin's Day.

On the wall above the large doors that lead out of the hall, was a towering serine green-marble depiction of Yavanna, who the Dwarves held in high reverence. After all, was she not Mahal's mate? Her hair was made of thousands of carved stone leaves, her body seeming that of a great tree, her gown was that of flowers and green living things, the Two Trees of Valiner to be seen behind her as she held a handful of seeds in her long fingered stone hands.

On the facing wall opposite her, in stark white marble run through with thick veins of mithril and gold, watching over them all, was a huge depiction of the powerfully built Mahal. His great bearded visage seeming distant as he watched from above, one great hand open, palm up, his massive hammer clutched in his other. Always a chilling reminder of how their creator had almost become their destroyer. Since Durin the Deathless awakening, all depictions of Alue had him holding his great hammer. In the flickering red and orange firelight, the many dark shadows leaping, he looked almost sinister above them, like a displeased God that watched it's creations below in boredom as they tried to appease him.

In other areas of the Mountain various depictions of the other Valor could also be found, Iluvatar however was never depicted by sculpture or paintings, if he was depicted he was only shown as a blinding light. The Dwarves recognized he as the ultimate creator of all, even of their own creator and so was given the greatest of respect and gratitude. Yet to the Dwarves he was a being to be feared, one to grovel and prostrate themselves to. For the Seven Fathers never forgot their creation, nor when Iluvatar breathed life into them. For instead of their first moments of life being that of love and wonder, they where of hurt confusion and terror as they watched Aule, their beloved father and creator suddenly raise his great hammer to them, preparing to destroy them under Iluvatar's watching eyes. The Dwarves had wisely taken this as a sign from Iluvatar himself, the ultimate God was letting them know their lowly place and how little they truly meant. Merely Aule's worthless puppets, toys that he was willing to instantly destroy rather then displease Iluvatar.

Ever would the Dwarven race feel apart, to forever be on the outside looking in. Unwanted children left to miserably stand outside in the cold as they looked longing through the widow at those wanted children inside, basking in the light and love of the Valor. In the end perhaps that was the true cause behind the long and bitter conflict between the Eldar and Aule's children, maybe in the end it was jealousy. The Elves where loved and wanted, while the Dwarves where not.

It is said that after Iluvatar stayed his hand, Aule cast aside his hammer and was glad, giving Iluvatar his deepest thanks, kissing his hand, but it was only after he was again alone with his seven children that Aule saw the true price he had paid for his impudence. For when he joyfully reached out to Durin, his most beloved child and greatest creation, Durin shrank in fear from his hand as his other children fell once again to their knees and cringed. In the end the final lesson Aule taught his seven children before he cast them out, alone, to sleep until Iluvatar's favored children had awoken, was fear.

If Aule still watched over his children or had simply forgotten about them, if he loved them or did not, it could not be said. But many of the Dwarves of Erebor and other Dwarf colonies still put their trust and faith in him as they reveled below the great stone visage of their creator. The air in the huge chamber was sweltering, the deep thrum and beat of the many drums seeming to have cast a spell over the many dancers below. Their dancing was not delicate nor elegant like the Eldar, it was hard, primal, like fire and stone, solid and fast. No doubt the Elves would think it crude, uncouth and alien, while Men and Hobbits would probably think it strange, wild and tribal-like.

Both male and female went topless, clad in only tight fitting leather or hose, their many muscular bodies shone wetly in the firelight, their furiously dancing forms slick and dripping with sweat. Their long hair loose and unbraided, whipping about them with their thrashing movements, lashing one another and slapping against their bare backs, the sting of it seeming to urge them on. Their bare feet stomped and slapped against the cool stone of the floor as they moved their arms about and above them, their large hands open, creating patters in the humid air. Some danced in groups, some danced with each other, males danced with females, some females danced with other females and some males danced with other males, but many simply lost themselves in the heat of the drums. Some wore gold or silver rings in their ears, some with more elaborate piercing that flashed in the firelight, while many more had painted themselves with strange pigments that glowed an eerie blue or green in the darkness as they 'Fire-Danced'. No flab or fat would be found here, only hard rippling physics and tightly muscled forms, and with the exception of a few, there was not much body hair to be seen either. Their hot blood sang, their hearts pounding in their chest as they danced in tempo with the driving beats, seeming to take no notice of the heat, their bodies moving with a strange primal grace.

They say Dwarves can't dance, but that is a lie. For Dwarves do dance and they dance like they make war, like they make love...

Near one of the roaring bonfires, dancing along with the rest was Gimli, covered in a shine of sweat, lost with the rest in the their furious dancing. The heavy beat of the drums driving him on as he moved, his long copper-hair heavy and wet, shinning like blood in the firelight, the new gold rings that pieced both lobes of his ears glowed red in the light. His large dark-eyes flashed, the dancing flames reflected in their glassy depths, his smooth handsome face open seeming in a trance. His toned body and tightly corded arms moved about him like he moved on the battlefield, only now he didn't hold any weapons, his hands and fingers moving in whimsical patterns. His flat muscular stomach rippled as he arched his back and threw his head back, his copper mane whipping about him, feeling it slap heavily against his broad back with a pleasurable sting as he rocked his hip to the all consuming beat. He wore only thin black leather leggings that laced up the front and hung low on his slim hips, the wet material clinging sinfully to his strong muscled legs and the firm globes of his ass, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

The past year had been very good for Gimli, he had put on some weight and had filled out in all the right places, like his mother before him he had become truly stunning. Aside from his healthy weight, a couple of added inches in height and bigger muscle mass, he had long ago healed from his wounds and the many scars across his back, shoulders and forearms that had been raised and angry, had fully healed and now lay flat and pale across his warm tanned skin. His short-bearded face and bare upper-body was painted in glowing blue pigments, with intricate runes running down his form. As was with his name, their were also many stylized depictions of stars and flames on his back and arms.

Dancing just as furiously next to him was Kaya, also bare from the waist up, her small firm breasts bounced enticingly with her thrashing movement as she undulated and arched her slim body with the heavy pounding music. Her dark-hair was loose, long strands of it clinging to her hot damp skin as several silver bracelets flashed brightly on her wrists. Her rounded hips and legs clad in deep blue hose, a purple sash and a belt of thin silver coins chimed merrily from were it rested low on her rocking hips. She too was partly painted in glowing pigments of blue, with runes and swirling patterns of water and air. Sometimes they drift towards one another and dance with each other before slowly drifting apart again, sometimes dancing with others or by themselves, the pounding drums leading their movements and pace.

They and the other Dwarves would continue to dance long into the night before the bonfires finally died down and the last of the drums fell silent, leaving more then a few that haven't wandered away to simply sit or lay down on the cool stone floor in happy exhaustion. Many using this mellow time to talk or get to know a particular dance partner better, some had gathered into small groups, laughter rising every now and then from the various groups as they sat around the dark cavern lit only by the dieing embers of the fires. More then one individual was also dealing with the consequences of drinking too much alcohol mixed with hard paced dancing as they now lay moaning miserably on the floor or where hunched over a bucket or in a corner.

It was in one of these groups, in a small side chamber off from the main cavern that Gimli, Kaya, Nidi, Svior and a few others had gathered after the celebration. The small stone chamber was mostly bare, with a small fire pit built into in the center of the room, some tattered cushions scattered about to sit on, while two large tapestries hung from either wall, one depicting the White Mountains while the other depicted the three sacred peaks of Kazad-dum.

Sitting near the curtain draped exit by the fire was a young male by the name of Thurs, with thick curly brown-hair, of medium height and broad build. He was a very calm and intelligent Dwarf, always seeming to have his head in a book or scroll. He wore a brown leather leggings and a thick gold-incrusted belt about his hips which was his only adornment, he was from the one of the higher LongBeard clans and could trace his blood to Durin himself. His family lived in the nicer area on the fourth level of the Mountain with the other more wealthy and higher standing families. Though Thurs was a very fit and strong Dwarf, having a great skill at swinging a broad sword, he was more of an intellectual and was studying to become a scholar and teacher by trade, following in the footsteps of his bookish father.

Not far away, Gimli leaned lazily against the wall, one foot up, resting back against the rough stone behind him, the dark-haired Kaya standing next to him, unconsciously curling a lock of her dark-hair around her finger. Gimli was chewing on a piece of dried jerky as Kaya told him about her Mother's newest conquest, who happened to be a large soldier from Dain's army and how they kept her up the other night.

Meanwhile a young blond-haired Dwarrow-dam, who was a friend of Kaya's, was telling the others about a funny incident that happened to her on the way to the Mountain many months before. She stood before the fire weaving her tale, her shadow to be seen mirroring her movements on the stone wall behind her as her dark-green eyes glittering in the firelight, clad in black leggings with large flat discs of gold dangling from her ears and nothing else. Her face full of humor as she stood their uncaring of her partial nudity while she did an impression of a strange Man she had met, that had the others laughing uproariously.

The dark-haired and bare-chested Svior sat on some cushions with Nidi, who was clad in in light-green hose and a cheerful yellow tunic with green embroidery on the collar and sleeves, his long honey-brown curls held away from his smooth heart-shaped face in a simple knot. While Svior was only clad in dark green leggings with a brown leather belt, his long dark hair loose, he was much more powerfully built then Nidi, who was petit by Dwarf standards. About both their throats where simple collars of worked silver and copper which had caused a bit of a stir when they first arrived in the Mountain, for it was almost unheard of for a Dwarf to find their "one" and take them as their mate before they had reached their first one-hundred years. Svior and Nidi's union was shocking for neither young Dwarf was even seventy yet. They however didn't care and neither did Gimli, who known them well and was the only one who could truly understand their reasoning, eventually Nidi and Svior would exchange better tooled and gilded collars, but for now the simple ones they wore were just as effective.

Unfortunately at the moment though, Svior seem to take a drink from the bottle that had become a permanent fixture in his hand, the bottle he now held being his eleventh one that night. For the most part he sat morose, seeming to get quieter the more he drank, Nidi watching worriedly. He and the others trying several times to stop the bigger Dwarf from drinking as well as draw him out from his dark mood, without success.

Not far away the scarred Draupnir and his elder brother stood in front of the tapestry of Khazad-dum signing to one another, their hands moving fluidly in intricate patterns as they talked, both brothers had their long dark-hair braided with many small opalescent shell beads, both wore dark green hose with thick silver bracelets on their wrists. Dolgthrasir went shirtless like Gimli and most of the others, while Draupnir however wore a fetching long-sleeves cloud-gray tunic to cover up the massive disfiguring scars that ran along his body, but instead of his usual red scarf, he wore a light blue one wrapped around his horribly scarred face.

A small Dwarf with a very short beard, clearly trying to grow it out, sat nearby on his heels as he dug through an old woven satchel. He wore brown leather leggings, a leather harness with boots and belt, unlike most of the others he had not participated in the dancing, content to drink, eat and generally harass the more attractive females at the festivities. His long brown hair was held back from his angular face in four thick braids gathered at the nape of his neck.

"_What is that, Knuckles_?" Draupnir signed with his hands, watching the small male pull out a faded and cracked leather-bound book from the satchel he had been digging through.

Knuckles looked up, catching what the other Dwarf signed before flashing the mute Dwarf a consperatory grin. Knuckles was a very small by Dwarf standards, smaller then Nidi even, standing not that much bigger then a tall Hobbit. His build was rangy, bordering on skinny, but what he lacked in size and muscle mass, he made up for it speed and agility. He was the fastest runner in the Mountain and was a gifted tumbler, able to do some impressive feats of acrobatics, his only weapons being his sharp wits and several small hidden knives. Knuckles was not his actual name, which was Brofy, but a nickname he had earned for himself on the mean streets of the larger towns in the Blue Mountains area, for he was a skilled and notorious thief. He was also a very nasty fighter if cornered or caught, more then one being that had tried to catch or hurt him found a slender dagger through their ribs before they died.

Having been orphaned since he was twenty-four, his family killed in an ambush by robbers outside a town, he had been taken in by some wondering performers (who taught him how to tumble and do other such tricks). Unfortunately they had taken very bad advantage of him, treated him no better then a beast of burden, when they where not threatening to beat or starve him, after three miserable years he was able to escape them, striking out on his own able to making good use of his acquired skills. For much of the time after that he managed to survive by wandering from town to town as a pickpocket and thief, when he wasn't juggling and doing acrobatic feats on a street corner for change. During those many hard years and with Dwarves being unwanted and looked down on in so many places, he had hidden his Dwarven heritage from outsiders by disguising his deep voice, pitching it higher and wearing concealing cloaks, even so far a shaving his beard, which he had only just recently allowed to grow. With his small stature and thin build, he was able to fool quite a few into thinking him just an odd looking child or boot-wearing Hobbit. Like many other Exiles he had made his way to the Mountain after hearing of the Dragon's death to start new life, soon after to become friends with Gimli and the others.

"It's a book I barrowed from the library in Lake Town," the small Dwarf explained, getting up and flipping through it. "Can't read it though, its in Elvish," he explained, a frown momentarily marring his angular features as he squinted at the elegant script. "But its got interesting pictures!"

"Borrowed? Don't you mean _stole_?" Kaya snorted, all those gathered where quite familiar with Knuckles 'barrowing' things.

"Fine! The book I _stole,_" Knuckles sniffed, glaring at her. "Some habits be hard to brake, alright," he grumbled in defense of himself.

"Svior! Please, you've already drunk enough!" Nidi pleaded from across the fire as he tried, unsuccessfully, to take Svior's bottle again. But the other Dwarf refused to relinquish the alcohol as he took another long pull from it, avoiding the other's attempt to stop him.

Gimli just shook his head from where he watched, knowing it was useless for Nidi to even try. _If Svior wanted to get shit-faced, that was his prerogative._ Though he could not blame Nidi, having watched the larger Dwarf do nothing but drink like a damn fish as soon as the festivities and dancing had started. Never had he seen his friend drink so much, back in Black Hollow he remembered how Svior would enjoy a good pint now and then at the tavern, but it wasn't until he had been reunited with his two friends that he saw a dramatic change in Svior. Apparently he was not the only one that had changed in the past year. Now whenever he saw his friend it was with a mug of mead or ale in hand, if Gimli didn't know better he would think his friend had developed the drinking-sickness (2.) that some Humans got.

"Here, let me be see'in it. I know some Elvish and can read it too," Thurs told them as he sat up and held out a hand for the book, which Knuckles handed over.

"Your Da still got you helping to translate those tomes in the lower vaults?"

"Aye, that he does. I might as well be making it me permanent job at this rate," Thurs snorted, not looking up from the book as he flipped through some of the pages.

"Its in early Sindarin, looks old… Probably some time from the early second age by the writing." He finally said before skipping to the front page of the old book again. "See this? It says that this here is a collection of information on plants, peoples and animals by an Elven Scholar names Altslasse. But looking through this I must say that this is a very poorly written book, his writing in some areas is atrocious! Many of his observations are also clearly not from his own experiences, most these descriptions are from other peoples observations. See?" he pointed out to them. "Some of these rivers are in the wrong area-- and here! He has Mount Gundabad east of the Withered Hearth, when it is west!" his tisked, shaking his head.

"Give it here! I want to find something," Dolgthrasir said in his scratchy voice, coming over and taking the book. The bracelets on his thick wrists chiming merrily with his movements as the shell beads in his hair swung about his broad shoulders.

As he flipped through the brittle pages, Nali strolled over to where Gimli and Kaya stood, Gimli watching her come over, a smile coming to his lips as he watched the pronounced swing in her rounded hips. Nali was a lovely female, with her rather pale skin tone, light hair coloring and her dark cat-like green eyes, she came from one of the wealthier clans from the Iron Hills. Born and raised into the privilege and safety of the Iron Hills, the only daughter born to her parents, she had been a friend of Kaya's for some years, the two Dwarrow-dams having been taught under the same Weapons Master.

"Those new earrings of yours look good, Star," she purred, looking at the thick gold rings that pierced the lobes of Gimli's ears. Coming to stand on his other side and non to subtlety brushing up against him as she batted her eye's, a answering smile coming to Gimli's lips, making no attempt to hide that he found her quite attractive.

"Thank you, my Lady Nali," he purred back as he inclined his head to her.

Kaya however looked less then pleased, watching the exchange with narrowed eyes before stepping up and giving Gimli a sharp shove as she gave Nali a long hard look.

Catching the meaning of that look, Nali stepped back, momentarily dropping her eyes, letting them know that she did not challenge Kaya's silent warning, yet her posture stayed open and did not drop, letting Kaya know that she was not angered or agitated either. Gimli meanwhile gave an internal sigh of disappointment before turning an annoyed gaze to the completely unapologetic dark-haired Dwarrow-dam next to him.

"Gloin's going to throw a fit when he see's em," warned Thurs, looking up from where he sat nearby. Both of Thurs' parent's where LongBeards so he braided his curly brown hair accordingly, later when his beard was longer he would braid that traditionally as well.

"Don't I know it," Gimli groaned, turning his head to the other male. "The way he be treating me, you'd think I was just weaned from breastfeeding!" Gimli grumbled sourly.

"That was yesterday wasn't it?" Asked Knuckles with a smirk before ducking the cushion Gimli then threw at him.

"He's LongBeard, they are all a bit… bland," observed Kaya, ignoring Thurs following glare as she let out a big yawn.

"That maybe so, but I am only half LongBeard," Gimli reminded her, unconsciously reaching up to touch the cool ring of metal on his ear. "Besides my mother was planning to pierce my ears before I was even twelve summers! I remember hearing her and my Da arguing about it a few times. I should have had them done when I reached fifty, but what with Da and us be so poor an all," he finished with shrugged.

"Regin did a good job," Nali said, studying the thick seamless rings. Dwarven rings and other such piercings where permanent and could only be removed by cutting or ripping them out. "Lady Ai will no doubt be vary pleased."

"Well, you look full IronFist," Thurs pointed out, looking the other male up and down. Like flame-red hair was for those of FireBeard descent or golden-colored hair for those of the StoneFoot clans, Gimli's straight dark copper-colored hair and almond-shaped eyes, where distinctive to those of the IronFist clans. Rings in the ears and other such piercing was a very common practice amongst the IronFist and FireBeard clans, pierced ears especially were a deep tradition in the various IronFist clans. However, piercings where frowned on by most of those of the LongBeards clans, which was odd since many LongBeards where known for their fine tattoos.

"Still, he needn't worry. I will part and braid my beard the traditional LongBeard way," Gimli explained, reaching up to rub the thick silky hair along his chin.

In Dwarven society it was the females who where dominant, and so when a couple married, it was the male who was expected to move in with his wife's clan. However, if a bonding was to take place between two females or two males, the one of lesser standing was expected to move into the other's clan. So if a simple stone mason where to wed a high warrior, he or she would be expected to move into the warrior's clan, or if a warrior was to take a Master smith as a mate, the warrior was expected to move in with the smith's clan. In turn any offspring they would sire would be raised with the Dominant partner's clan's traditions.

Nali gave Gimli a final wink and ran a teasing finger down his muscular arm before turning to walk back the way she came-- only to find Knuckles suddenly standing there in her personal space, making her momentarily jump in surprise. The small brown-haired Dwarf only coming up to her shoulder as he blocked her way.

"Why would you want some one like him, when you can have a stallion like me?" He purred, looking up at the blond female attempting to be suave as he wiggled a suggestive eyebrow at her. Nali however, having gotten over her surprise, only looked irritated before she put a hand on his face and promptly shoved him away, causing him to fall back on some cushions before she walked past. Knuckles meanwhile didn't seem fazed in the least, sitting up on his elbows and watching her walk away with a lecherous smile, taking advantage of his lowered vantage point to admire her shapely rump.

"Great technique you got there, Knuckles," Gimli observed before taking a sip of water from the water skin he now held as he looked down at the smaller male. Kaya just rolled her eyes at the male now sprawled on the cushions, looking far too pleased with himself before following after her friend.

"Not all of us can get by on our looks alone, Pretty-boy," he sniffed, giving the handsome copper-haired Dwarf a superior look. "Jealous?"

"Oh, Aye! I'm just burn'in up with rage," Gimli said sarcastically before tossing Draupnir nearby the water skin with a snort.

"Find what you where looking for, Dolgthrasir?" Asked Thurs, leaning over the other Dwarf's shoulder to look.

"No, but I did find something else. Look at this!" The dark-haired Dwarf cried, turning the book out for them all to see as the others gathered around in curiosity.

He held the book open to a page with a ink drawing on it, but he gave an irritated "Oy!", when Kaya walked over and snatched the book from him. With the exception of Gimli and Svior, the others had all come over for a look as well, now gathering around the dark-haired Dwarrow-dam.

"Harrumph! I didn't see that picture before," Knuckles growled when he saw it, scowling at the ink image. "I wouldn't have bothered to swipe it!" He grumbled indignantly as folding his arms over his chest.

"_Well, let that be a lesson to you about stealing things that don't be belonging to you,_" signed Draupnir with a chuckle, his two-colored eyes turning to give the glaring thief a rye look.

"What shit! That Elf, Altsissy-- or whatever his name be, can shove this book right up his lily-white arse for all I care!" yelled Nali, her dark-green eyes narrowed, visibly bristling with anger.

"Valor! Is that the way they truly see us?" gasped Nidi, now looking over her shoulder in shock, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Dolgthrasir just barely managed to snatch the book out of Kayla's hands before the fuming Dwarrow-dam could throw it in the fire, causing her to growl and glare at him. He threw back his head with a scratchy laugh when he finally opened the book and looked at the illustration of a supposed 'Naugrim' again.

"Well this only proves that for all their supposed wondrous vision-- Elves are clearly blind!" He snorted good-naturedly, the many shell beads in his hair flashing in the firelight.

And though he couldn't see the drawing, Gimli chuckled with the others as he leaned against the wall, Draupnir coming over to sit next to him. It reminded him of an incident his uncle had told him about a year before.

It had been days after the battle, the final day before the Elves where to break camp and leave for Mirkwood, all of their wounded healed enough to be safely moved. As a token of good-will between their peoples, King Dain had invited King Thranduil and Bard to sup with him.

Balin and his uncle Oin just happened to have been part of the group that King Dain had personally escorted to the massive feasting hall, for a carefully laid out celebratory dinner of goodwill. As the Warrior King escorted his guests, he showed them some of the impressive sights of Erebor, pointing out architecture and various murals and sculpture. The areas he showed them had of course been stringently cleaned and brightly lit by many crystal lamps and torches, carefully avoiding the more damaged chambers and halls. It just so happened as Dain was about to turn and lead them down a final hall, that Thranduil's eldest son, the dark-haired Prince Caulndil had stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted a particular sculpture standing between two intersecting halls.

It so happened to be a massive statute of a noble Elf, clad in rich robes, a golden harp in one hand and a sword in the other, his stone eyes seeming to look far away as his hair and robes whipped in a invisible wind.

"Father! Look it is Finrod," the Prince had cried in wonder, causing the others of the group to pause and look as well.

"So it is," Thranduil said, looking up at the massive stone figure. Looking rather under-whelmed even though no statue of Finrod in any of the remaining Elven kingdoms could there be found this wonderfully done.

"But father, what is it doing here?" The Prince hissed to his father in a low voice, turning to look in confusion at his taller father, but before Thranduil could speak another spoke up.

"Such a being as Felagund deserves to be remembered, do you not agree?" The Dwarf King said with a nod, coming to stand with the group, all of who now looked up at the ancient stone Elf. The powerfully built Dwarf King happily ignoring Thranduil's irritated gaze.

"You should see some of the larger murals and sculptures," he said, looking up at the massive figure towering majestically above them before turning to Thranduil now standing beside him. "There is even a particularly large and impressive mural down in one of the lower halls that depicts the Last Alliance. Your great father Oropher is depicted with his warriors before his brave charge-- Even a depiction of you, Thranduil, still but a prince.

"Luckily your depiction was high enough that it avoided any defacing," Dain added with a wicked smile, that made one of Thranduil's elegant eyebrows raise as he looked back at the other King. Thranduil getting the impression that when Dain spoke of defacing, it was not by the Dragon, but by the Dwarves now residing in the Mountain.

"You should see it-- after my people have cleared and repaired that hall of course," Dain continued on pleasantly. "As it is here and other Dwarf kingdoms, you will find many honorable heroes of Arda, both Men and Elves. I'm sure you also have some wonderful sculpture or paintings of great Dwarven heroes in your halls as well?"

There was a very long silence that followed after that and Gandalf momentarily closed his grey-eyes, for he knew the answer and could only shake his head at the handsome Warrior King, knowing full well that Dain was no fool. Seeing the mischievous twinkle in Dain's dark eyes, he knew the Dwarf King was clearly having a little fun at Thranduil's expense.

Seeing the hard look on Thranduil's pale aristocratic face sent Dain into gales of deep rumbling laughter, which proved infectious, for Beorn, Bard and his Men where soon laughing as well, seeing the humor in it. Only the Elves had stood there looking far from amused.

"Forgive me my dear Thranduil! But I think I know just what kind of imagery, if any, I might find of my people in your halls," Dain finally chuckled after getting his laughter under control, wiping a tear from his the corner of his eye.

The Elf King bristled, his jewel-like eyes flashing, but had nothing to say.

Gimli internally shook his head as he remembered the night his uncle Oin had laughed until his stomach had hurt as he told them that story or later of poor Gandalf and Bard hurriedly defusing the situation by claiming to be famished and wishing to see more of the Mountain.

Oin and his father had later told him how dinner ended up being a very tense and very odd affair, for aside from Thranduil, his Eldest son and two of his top advisors, as well as Bard and three of his council. There had been Gandalf, the remaining members of Thorin's party and the skin-changer Beorn, who's manners and overall couth left much to be desired. The hulking wear-bear who apparently thought nothing of burping, snorting over the choices of food, insulting the other guests, breaking wind in the company of royalty and being altogether rude.

A loud pop of the fire and a shifting of the logs, brought Gimli's attention back to the present and he turned his attention to the others in the room still talking and stewing over the book Knuckles had stolen. Even Svior by now had stumbled up on unsteady feet to have a look at the book, bottle still in hand, now looking mad and flushed.

_"It is their bigotry and ignorance that make the Elves and Men blind to the truth. Not their eyes. I suppose the same could be said for some of us," _signed Draupnir level-headedly from where he sat, his mismatched eyes sparkling in the firelight.

"Let me see," Gimli finally asked, holding he's hand out to Dolgthrasir, his curiosity now peaked.

"Brace yourself," the dark-haired Dwarf snorted, handing him the book.

"That- that _thing_ doesn't look anything like us," grumbled Kaya, sharply motioning to the book Gimli now held. "Someone should brake that artist's hands!"

Gimli dark almond-shaped eye narrowed as he finally beheld the ugly miserable, hunched creature depicted on the dry yellowed parchment that had his friends so angry. And though he tried to deny it, he felt a momentary pang of hurt as he looked at the creature with it's scraggly beard dragging the ground, with a large beak-like nose and small beady black eyes, a nasty sneer on it's wrinkled face. It wore a hood, with a blood-stained axe in one small stumpy-hand and held a bag of coins in the other, at it feet, no doubt having just been murdered by the stunted creature was depicted the bloody sprawled body of a lovely delicate Elven maid. At the top of the page, above the depiction was one word written in bold letters of Elvish scrip; Naugrim.

"It is the Victors of arda that get to re-write history," Gimli finally said, looking up from the crude ink image. Finding he no longer had the want, nor the stomach to look upon it, handing it off to Draupnir sitting next to him.

"Such a lies!" cried Kaya angrily, motioning to the book. "We may not like those arrogant--lying--self-centered-- twig-dicked-- tree-humpers! But we do not depict them with such lies! Mahal spit in their eyes!"

"Calm yourself, Kaya," Gimli soothed, speaking up as he leaned back against the stone wall again. "Trust me this is bad, but I have seen worse in Human towns and villages," he said with a shrug, Knuckles, Nidi and Svior also nodding their heads in grudging agreement.

"I know, I know! Yet it is just so--so…. maddening!" She said, tugging on her short beard in frustration before throwing up her hands at a loss for what else to say.

"Thats Elves for you," snorted Thurs with a helpless shrug. "It's like the tale of Turin slaying Glaurung. The Elves make it seem as if Turin did so single handedly, yet would the Man have been able to do so if not for King Azaghal's noble sacrifice in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears? The fact is that Turin would not have been able to get close if not that the Dragon was already wounded thanks to Azaghal's strike. But who cares about that!" He said sarcastically, making a dramatic show of waving off the facts with a roll his brown eyes.

"Aye. What do you expect from the Eldar, they probably can't understand why every mortal in arda ain't line'in up on their knees to be kiss'in their arses!" The light-haired Nali said in total disgust, breaking a thick log with her hands before throwing both pieces on the fire. Someone had painted many crawling snakes of green and brown wrapped and slithering around her strong arms and torso, one slender snake encircled one of her bared breasts, her long golden-hair sat in a long tail high on the back of her head, leaving her attractive and painted face bare.

"Hey now, maybe were looking at this all wrong," Dolgthrasir spoke up, waving a hand in the air to still their angry words as he walked over to his brother who still held the book open. "Look, see the bag of coins?" He pointed out, a thick calloused finger tapping on a section of the drawing. "Clearly the poor lass paid him to put her out of her misery of having to pose for this shitty drawing!" he joked.

"Well… I can't be blame'in her for that," Kaya said grudgingly, the corners of her lips threatening to curl into a smile.

"I still can't be getting over all the lies those addle-brained Elves and Men think," Nali said with a disbelieving shake of her head.

"You mean it's _not_ true that we all be greedy-moles, raping the earth for our own selfish gain?" gasped Dolgthrasir, pretending mock astonishment as he turned to look at her with wide eyes, as if stunned by her words.

"But I though the Naugrim simply boorish unlovely creatures," he continued, pitching his scratchy voice into a high tenor, in a mocking attempt at a Elf-like voice as he girlishly flipped his hair.

"Yes! Forget not the Sack of Doriath! Never mind that we Elves murdered and massacred our own kind during the Kinslayings. Never mind that!" Thurs added, also pitching his voice high in a very bad imitation of an Elven voice, arrogantly holding his nose high in the air while making swishy motions with his hands.

"Yes, where be the hypocrisy in that?" Nali snorted with a roll of her green-eyes. "The Eldar be perfectly in their rights to treat us like lowly foul creatures, constantly rubbing our faces in our past mistakes, when their perfect white hands be covered in just as much-- if not more blood!"

"Well, we are all quite hairy and ugly," Gimli added in mock seriousness, motioning to his own handsome face as example.

"Don't forget stumpy and fat," Kaya purred, coming over to the cooper-haired Dwarf and running a teasing hand down Gimli flat muscular abdomen. Briefly tugging on the lacings of his leggings as Gimli gave her a suggestive grin and playfully reached out with a large calloused hand and gently tugged on her short beard.

_"Or greedy and stupid!" _Signed Draupnir, getting into the game.

"We don't bath or brush our hair and beards either," Dolgthrasir pointed out with a smirk, shaking his head and causing the many beads in his hair to swing and click together.

"We can't swim or jump either!" Knuckles said before taking a step-forward and doing a quick back-flip, followed by a perfect hand-stand, a wicked smile on his face as he balanced there upside down.

"Or that we are heartless and care only for gold and ale," Nidi added softly before leaning over and giving Svior's flushed cheek a kiss, causing the dark-haired Dwarf to momentarily smile and return the gesture.

"And that we eat our own babies!"

"Mahal! Tell me they are not saying that about us now," Kaya cried, looking aghast at the snickering Knuckles, who had just jumped back to his feet, dusting off his hands.

"Course not! We carve our children from stone, didn't you know?" Gimli asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at her.

"We'll that explains Niping's ugly mug. His Da can't carve worth a shit!" cracked Thurs, throwing his head back with a hearty laugh.

"Soon it will be all our fault for the Battle of Fire Armies, I'm sure," someone said.

"Give it time! I'm sure in a year or two Thranduil's people will have all the Men in Dale and Lake Town convinced that my Da and the rest of Thorin's company purposefully invaded their foul forest and threw themselves in the dungeon!" Gimli snorted derisively as he ran his fingers through his long thick hair, combing it off his face.

"_That's Wood-elves for ya, flighty as birds they all be. Even other Elven-kind consider them thus_," Draupnir signed with a helpless shrug.

"Yes, but it must be admitted that none of us would take kindly to our feasting being unexpectedly interrupted," Thurs pointed out, ever the peacemaker and voice of reason of the group.

"True, and Bombur was part of that group," Nali conceded, a hand on her now cocked hip.

"I can only imagine the horror of a half-starved Bombur come barreling out of the bushes at a table full of food would frighten any one," giggled Nidi behind his hand.

"I'd be scared too! Especially if I was between him and that table!" Gimli said with a bark of laughter.

"I would not wish that fat Dwarf's hunger on anyone, even an Elf!" Svior snorted darkly from where he sat, speaking up for the first time that night.

"That greedy Elf King, like a Dragon on his hoard he be," Nali said a moment later, the fire highlighting her comely features. "Probably thought Thorin and them was after his gold." She finished with a shake of her long blond hair before taking a bite from a piece of dried beef she now held. Her strong white teeth having no problem with the tough meat, with a loud rip and a chiming of her disc earrings, she was eating a mouthful that would have been impossible for a Man's teeth to chew.

"Oy now! How where those poor addle-brained Wood-elves to know?" Thurs spoke up, coming to squat beside her, a smirk on his strong-featured face. "For all they knew Thorin and the others might have been wanting to move into their forest."

"Ai! Who wouldn't want to live in such a nice dark spider infested wood, with plenty of insects and orcs to be had?" snickered Dolgthrasir. "Perhaps build a nice mansion with a view of the Enchanted river."

"Maybe King Thranduil thought they be there to steal their squirrels!" Someone laughed, the others in the room now laughing as well, except for the strangely quiet Svior who continued to drink.

"To steal their spiders!" Knuckles suddenly cackled, tears of mirth in his eyes as the others continued to laugh uproariously.

"Well at least we know that not all of the Eldar are such ignorant savages, just look at the wise Lord Elrond and his good people," Said Thurs, finally getting his laughter under control as he took the ancient book from Draupnir and flipped through it again. Noting that the other depictions of Men and Periannath where not that flattering either, apparently the author and artist of this odd book had a low opinion of most peoples, except their own it seemed. With a derisive snort he snapped the book shut and tossed it back to Draupnir, who almost dropped it with a fumbling catch.

"I don't trust his folk either," grumbled Nali around a mouthful, her lip curling. "Half-elf or no. He still be a Elf!"

"Aye, but he still be better then that dark Elf Thranduil!"

"Have you ever seen him?" Dolgthrasir asked the others leaning conspiratorially forward with a grim look on his short-bearded face, the fire under lit his features, causing his shinning black-eye to glow an eerie bronze in the firelight. "A frightful being he be, he must be ten feet tall with hair the color of the sun! He has giant spiders for pets, keeping them as watch dogs, having them attack unsuspecting travelers in his wood! All white-skin and blazing eyes, he'll kill you as soon as look at you if ya stood between him and getting his pale hands on any gold or jewels!" He said with a shudder, remembering the brief glimpse he and his brother had caught of the frightening Elf King during the battle, swinging his great white sword.

From where he stood, Gimli just rolled his almond-shaped eyes at what was being said, giving an internal shake of his head.

_"I don't rightly know how Thorin and Balin where able to stand their and confront such a beast, in his own kingdom no less_," Draupnir signed with an admiring shake of his head. His gold and black eyes looking into the fire over the light-blue scarf wrapped around his face, the many shell beads shining in his dark hair.

"Well if _I_ had been there before that greedy King Thranduil, I would have--" Knuckles began, his chest puffing up.

"You would have pissed yourself!" Gimli suddenly broke in with a laugh, the others promptly fell into laughter as well as poor Knuckles fumed.

"Shut your face, Star! You don't know nothing!" he growled irritably as the others continued to laugh, crossing his arms as he glared at the other Dwarf.

"_Well not all the humans must believe those damned stories, judging by the good trade with Bard's people or those lovely lasses always fluttering around Gimli whenever we go to Dale_," signed Draupnir, his miss-matched eyes full of humor.

"Or when he came back from that trip to Lake Town last week covered in lip-paint and his shirt on backwards!" laughed Draupnir, as Gimli fained innocence.

"I told you, I was taken advantage of!" he said dramatically, putting the back of his hand to his brow mimicking martyrdom before a sly grin broke over his face. Making the other males in the room chuckle, while the two females looked less then impressed, their eyes narrowed in irritation. Nidi meanwhile just knowingly shook his head, remembering Gimli's past relationships, especially with the wild raven-haired Myia, some things just never changed it seemed.

"I despise the way those damned Women hang on our males," Kaya leaned over and grumbled to Nali, who nodded in agreement.

"Aye! They got plenty males of their own," she said, her large gold disk earrings flashing in the firelight.

"Then again who would want a Man, no stamina!" Kaya sniffed, tossing her dark-hair as she crossed her arms over her bare chest. The swirling designs of water and air painted on her shapely form glowed an eerie blue in the darkness, her belt of silver coins chiming merrily on her hips.

"And they don't know their place! Have you seen the way those Men treat their females? I once saw a Man raise his hand to his mate, right in the middle of the street! You should have seen her! Covered in bruises, old and new, the way she cowered like a beaten dog. Barbaric, makes me sick!" Nali spat angrily, a scowl on her smooth face as she remembered the incident, her fists unconsciously clenching.

"Do not judge them to harshly, my Ladies. They are ignorant and know no better, beside they are different from us," Thurs said, not looking up as he stirred the fire with a iron rod.

"If a male _dared_ raise his hand to me in such a manner, I would skin him alive! Then I would rip off his head and shit in it!" she snarled, glaring at the male next to her. Who wisely shrank away and moved a couple feet away as Kaya staunchly nodded her head in agreement.

"Oh! I wanted to show you all something!" Nidi suddenly chirped, as he jumped up to get something from a small knapsack resting at his feet amid the scattered cushions while the others looked on in interest. Even the quiet and morose Svior sat up, after taking another pull from his bottle, his curiosity sparked.

"I took some inspiration from our honorable Hobbit Burglar and decided to write our experiences down. Well… Svior and I-- and a little of you too Gimli, " Nidi hurriedly told them as he dug through the brown knitted sack.

"Is that what you've been doing these last three months in your room?" asked Gimli stepping away from the wall and coming over, the others also gathering for a closer look.

It was with a happy sound that Nidi finally found what he was looking for and they all watched the small heart-shaped faced Dwarf hold a up a thick bundle of tied up parchment. "It's almost done!" He explained as he got to his feet, briefly straitening his yellow tunic before he undid the twine and walked over to hand Gimli the first page, who saw that it was a list of names in Nidi's flowing script.

Gimli felt great sadness as he instantly recognized many of the names as familiar faces flashing behind his eyes as he read through the list. But some names more then others made a lump appear in his throat as a painful ache squeezed his heart as he read them; Noko, Lady Hilder, Ridi, Rint, Shala, Leon, Hanar, Ulfr…

"I wrote down everyone's name, see," Nidi said shyly, pointing at the carefully listed names. "When it's done I'll dedicate it to all of them." Gimli couldn't help but look back at the younger Dwarf and smile, touched by Nidi's simple sweetness even after so much hardship. Nidi then moved away and proudly presented the quiet Svior the rest, looking eager to see what his mate thought as he watched him slowly begin to flip through the pages. As he did so, Kaya, Dolgthrasir and Nali came over to look at the list, the fire letting out another pop as some of the wood shifted.

The momentary quiet was suddenly shattered by shouts and gasps of shock when Svior climbed to his remarkably steady feet with the collection of parchments in hand, moved past a confused Nidi and promptly threw the papers into the fire in the center of the room. Gimli let out a curse as he bolted forward, his eyes wide with shock, not believing what he had just seen, the list completely forgotten in his hand.

"What are you doing?" Nidi cried as he hurried forward and tried to snatch the bundle of parchment from the hungry flames, only to be brought up short and pulled back by the silent Svior.

"No! Let it burn," the black eye-Dwarf commanded, stopping the struggling Nidi and the others from trying to rescue the pages. Without a further word he moved back and flopped heavily back on his cushion then dragging a stunned and distressed Nidi onto his lap, wrapping a secure arm around the smaller Dwarf's waist, his other hand still holding his half-empty bottle.

"But…but why?" Nidi demanded softly, looking at his lover in complete confusion and hurt. Upset at seeing all his hard work destroyed for seeming no reason, the others in the room stood there in stunned silence. Gimli was stunned and confused as well at the black-eyed Dwarf's strange actions and impatiently waited for an explanation, Svior however said nothing as he brought the bottle he held to his lips for another long drink.

When no answer was forthcoming, Gimli stormed forward and made known his irritation, snatching the bottle out of the drunk Dwarf's hand. And in turn spilling some wine down Svior's front as the Dwarf yelled angrily in protest, but apparently could not find the will to get up and snatch it back.

"What in Mordor possessed you to do that?" Gimli demanded, holding the bottle out of reach, anger in his voice as he glared down at the black-haired Dwarf.

"Because no one will care. Who would read it?" Svior snapped angrily back, glaring up at the copper-haired Dwarf as he wiped uselessly at the stain now on his leggings. Giving up he looked back up at Gimli, "Who would want to read it, eh?" He prompted sarcastically before looking at everyone else in the room. "Elves? Men? Or how about some Hobbits maybe?"

"We will!" Nidi began, his eyes narrowed at his mate as he angrily unwrapped the larger Dwarf's arm from around his waist, his tone still more hurt then anything. "We Dwarves will--" but the honey-eyed Dwarf was interrupted with a derisive snort.

"Yes, another sorrowful tale to add to our libraries already full of it!" Svior snarled, though he allowed the smaller Dwarf to push away his hand. Even in his inebriated state Svior would never force Nidi to do anything against his will or strike him, though he might unintentionally hurt him in others ways.

"It is not your place to make such decisions! Who gave you the right?" Gimli snapped back before walking over and throwing the bottle into the fire. With a laud shattering of glass the fire momentarily flared high before returning to its regular size, the many deep shadows jumping.

"_I agree! You do not know that for a fact, look at this book here_," Draupnir signed with a shake of his head, picking up and waving the Elven book. "_It has survived all these centuries and Knuckles found in a town of Men, now it is in a Dwarven kingdom."_

"Yes, a book of lies! Is that book not proof enough, that none will care! We are alone, our own creator has thrown us aside. Valor be damned, what makes you think that any other race would care about what happened to any of us, they would probably laugh! Maybe even think we deserved what happened to us!" Svior hissed back, venom dripping as he glared back at Gimli with glassy eyes. Drink having loosened not only his tongue, but his hold on his darker thoughts, for clearly this wasn't just about Nidi's or the Elven book anymore. Nidi sat stiff and still on his lap looking at him with big shocked-eyes. The others had also fallen silent, many looking stunned at Svior's words.

"Ale has addled your brain, Svior!" Gimli finally growled, seeing Svior's harsh words as the ranting of a drunk. In his mind he suddenly got a flash of Ruby, drunk and snarling back in the kitchen in Ocendade, saying such hurtful things. Her final words ringing once again through his mind as he watched one of his close friends suddenly spew the same venom.

The easy comfort and cheer from just moments before had completely evaporated, now there was only an uncomfortable tension in the air as they all suddenly found themselves traveling on dark forbidden ground. Where before their postures had been open and carefree, now their stances where stiff, their movements weary, unconsciously defensive as Svior turned to Gimli once more.

"After all _we_ have seen, surly you are not so blind Gimli? The Valor don't care, we are unwanted! WE ARE ALONE!" There was a long pause as Svior took a deep breath and rubbed a scarred and heavily callused hand over his glassy eyes, seeming to calm himself. He then turned and reached up to run the back of his fingers gently across Nidi's cheek as a way of silent apology before speaking again.

"The people that care or to whom it matters know, isn't that enough? Why bother to open a healing scar… why add one more salty tear to the ocean already there?" he softly demanded from his small mate.

"Because their stories-- _Our_ stories should be heard!" Nidi said empathically as he caught and held one of Svior's hand, trying to make him under stand. But the dark-haired Svior could not be swayed as he just shook his head in denial, some of his long dark-hair falling in his face.

"Why do you say such things, we are not abandoned!" Kaya suddenly spoke up near Gimli, anger and confusion in her dark eyes, the fire casting half her face in deep shadow.

"Yes, we have much to thank Mahal for. The Valor have heard our prayers, look at our good fortune. Look around you! We are alive, we have a home, food--" Thurs began from where he sat opposite Nidi and his drunk mate across the fire.

"Yes! Look around us!" Svior interrupted, his head snapping up before making a sharp motion to the room around them as his temper again rose, his long dark-hair obscuring the sight of one of his flashing eyes. They then watched Svior dump a stiff Nidi off his lap and onto the cushions next to them as he got up. "We give such praise to the Valar, yet they have never done anything for us! Everyone prays and gives such praise to Mahal. Oh, Praise Mahal! Bless Mahal!

"Yet Mahal didn't make these halls, our people did! Mahal didn't fight the battle or defend us," he argued angrily. "Since our awakening we have walked Arda alone! The Valor are deaf, we are here because of our own hands! Our own strength! Not their good graces!" he continued heatedly, kicking a cushion out of his way.

"You speak things that will call the Valor down upon us!" Knuckles hissed from the other side of the room, his posture low, his manner suddenly nervous as if scared to speak to loudly.

"The Valor be rot! Where were the high Valar when half of our entire people where slaughtered in the Great War? Where were they when Smaug first came! Where were the great Valar when all the Women and Children of Black Hollow and the surrounding villages where being killed and eaten? Where were they as babies were ripped from their screaming mother's arms, to be eaten alive by the goblin's? Where were they when the Women were ripped apart by those damned bloody beasts? Where were they as all those people burned in the mine! WHERE WERE THEY?" Svior demanded of them, his broad fists white-knuckled, tears of rage falling unnoticed from his hollow looking eyes. His form visibly trembled and all were struck silent by the power of Svior's pain, the betrayal in his deep voice clear to all, especially to Nidi and Gimli who knew him best.

"It was not by Mahal's favor or will that we survived. It was I who killed those goblin's with my bare hands as we tried to escape," he continued in a calmer, yet no less bitter voice. Gimli finally hearing a bit of what had truly happened to his friends after Svior and Nidi had left Ulfr, Hanar and him behind, heading towards the quarry that terrible dark night.

"The Valor was not there when we where ambushed by a group of goblins! They where not there when I lost my sword… forcing me to snap and rip out their arms. They where not there when I ripped open that goblin's throat with my own teeth, they where not there when I shoved my thumbs through their eyes and crushed their sculls with my hands. They were not there when I climbed down the quarry with nothing but my bloody hands and feet, Nidi clinging to my back. Mahal was not there as we ran to Telgor. We made it not by divine intervention, but with our hands and our will to live!" Svior finished, his chest heaving, the small room seeming to ring with his last words as the flames continued to dance.

It was an odd and wrenching thing to truly question one's faith, to be forced to look upon one's uncertain place in the world and realize that there might be nothing for you.

"You speak as one lost, one who has lost his faith in Mahal!" Kaya finally hissed from across the fire, a desperate denial in her voice. She hung back behind Gimli with the still seated Draupnir, as if afraid to get any closer to the sudden stranger in their mists, shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

"I lost that long ago!" Svior laughed bitterly, turning to glare at her, the light of the fire casting dark shadows over his short-bearded face, his tortured eyes glowing eerily in the darkness. "When has Mahal ever been there when his children needed him? When has he _ever_ come when his creations cried out and begged for help? Why does he not answer us, huh? Are we not his children, why does he leave us naked and alone in the dark?" He demanded with a sharp motion of his hand, causing him to momentarily wobble before regaining his balance.

Gimli and the others could only stand there, some watching in disbelief at what they were hearing, while other silently listened. Their faces blank, only their eyes betraying their dark and troubled thoughts as they all watched Svior suddenly turn and storm around the fire and over to Draupnir, ripping the Elvish book they had all been laughing at earlier from his hands. The mute Dwarf made a loud sound of protest, but did not get up, Dolgthrasir automatically coming over to stand protectively at his younger brother's side, his eyes watching Svior wearily.

"Those fucking Elves, they whine and moan about their fate, they wear their tears and sorrows like jewels. Yet they are the lucky ones! They are the favored children, they are the ones who have been handed everything! All the stories… The fucking Elves and those shit-for-brains Men, all they have but to do is cry out-- and the Valor come to them. The Valar codol and reach out to them, Iluvatar loves them-- not us!" He snarled, seeming to choke back a sob, his white teeth bared in hate as he turned and hurled the book into the flames, causing sparks to fly. Almost instantly the ancient book was consumed by fire, the dry brittle parchment curling and blackening, and none moved to save it.

"And what of our Great Creator?" Svior suddenly snorted, straightening up with a sneer and turning to look at them all again, angry tears still falling unnoticed from his pain-filled eyes.

"He is deaf to us-- yet he speaks to them, blesses them… Why not us? Why does Mahal no longer have room in his heart for we who love him as both father and mother?" He demanded softly, thumping a fist against his chest and none could bring themselves to speak.

Nali suddenly got up, roughly shoving past the black-haired Dwarf as she stormed out of the room, refused to hear more. Badly shaken, she all but ran from the room, Thurs got up and hurried after her a moment later. Knuckles however sat down and pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, his wide-eyed gaze never leaving Svior as if the drunk Dwarf was transforming into something else before their eyes. Gimli and Kaya still stood, unable to speak, the orange and red light of the flames illuminating their smooth watching faces, while tears now sparkled like diamonds in Nidi's large honey-brown eyes as he stared into the flames of the fire, harshly biting his bottom lip as he hugged himself.

"Be silent, Svior!" Gimli finally growled, stepping forward, his large almond-shaped eyes flashing in the firelight. But the other would not be silenced and continued on, venting his anger and ignoring the copper-haired Dwarf's warning as the others shifted uneasily.

"Mahal… Great Aule or beloved Creator has turned his back on us long ago… The Elves are probably right. There is no place for us in the Valor's love… when we die there is no great hearth waiting for us. Mahal did not make a space for us in their realm, he cares not for us! No doubt we will return to nothing but stone and dust…soulless and forgotten," Svior finally finished quietly, the anger and hate seeming to finally drain out of him.

From where he stood, Gimli could hear the bitterness and finality in his friend's voice and though he wished it weren't so… He couldn't deny the echoing bitterness in his own heart at Svior's harsh words, the sick and heavy feeling in his stomach as a small voice in the back of his mind completely agreed with his friend. The fact was that they all had thought the same thing at some time or other, but only Svior had dared speak them aloud. No doubt Svior would have been badly struck for daring to say such things in the presence of some of the Elders, especially one of the Wise Women, but Gimli knew that many other Dwarves would also agree. Long moments past and none of those still gathered around the fire had the conviction to dispute Svior's bitter and harsh words.

"And what if we are?" Gimli finally spoke up, letting some his own bitterness come out. "What would you have us do?" Gimli snarled, coming over until he stood next to his friend, confronting the other, his countenance stormy.

"I know of what you speak, I have seen things too…. Aye! The ugliness of this world is staggering!" he agreed, making a broad motion with his arm before turning back to the taller Dwarf that silently watched him. "But grow up, Svior! We are not the only ones to suffer in this world and bemoaning our fate leads to nothing! So what if Mahal does not love us, so what if others still pray to him? Do not begrudge them their simple comforts, for some it is the only thing they have left."

"Ai! If nothing else leave us something to curse to," Knuckles then spoke up, a forced smile on his angular bearded face as he let go of his knees and leaned back against the wall.

"Gimli is right, I learned long ago that all the tears in the world add up to nothing but mud. Mud that clings to everything--sullying everything. If allowed it will suck you down and smother you. Soon all you can do is but wallow in it," Knuckles said in all seriousness, his features darkening and for a few moments the others saw the hard steely thief that Knuckles had been to survive on the streets. "Save your tears, in the end they mean nothing," he finished quietly.

"I refused to be a victim a long time ago, Svior. Maybe you should consider doing the same," Gimli said in a hard voice, his fiery gaze turning to the fire, his fists clenched as he remembered his own terrible trials.

In the small chamber all remained quiet for a time, none able to breach the odd uncomfortable silence. Now that his rant was over, his anger vented, Svior seem to stand there in confusion, a frown on his face as he stood there before the cheerful fire. A few moments later Nidi finally got up and with Gimli's help they lead the bigger Dwarf back to his seat before getting him to flop down again. Gimli catching the water skin that Knuckles tossed over the fire at them before handing it to Nidi who gave him a soft thanks, still a bit shaken. Gimli then squatted down in front of Svior who looked lost as he rubbed a shaky hand over his flushed face, Gimli reaching out to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear, a small comforting gesture.

"Svior my friend, you drink too much." he said simply, his dark-eyes now full of worry as he looked at his friend. He then leaned forward and rested his forehead against Svior's, putting a comforting hand on the back of Svior's thick neck.

"You have vented your anger, now you must stop drinking so much. You hurt Nidi when you act this way, you do not want to worry him needlessly do you?" Gimli asked before he sat back and looked at his friend.

"No-No of course not. I'll- I will be better, no more drink," Svior promised earnestly, closing his weary eyes and shaking his head.

"Good," Gimli said with a tired smile. Giving Svior's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before standing again, leaving Nidi to fuss over his now mumbling and apologizing mate, getting him to drink some water.

As Gimli walk a few feet away, he again noticed the parchment he still held in his hand, pausing before the fire he look down at the list of names again, feeling his heart constrict once again in remembered sadness. _Was this the real reason that others thought so little of Dwarves? Because in the end we think so little of ourselves? Have we begun to believe the many lies the Men and Elves say of us? _Gimli thought to himself as he looked at the single piece of parchment in his hand.

With that he stepped forward and let the list fall from his hand and into the hot flames that licked teasingly at his finger tips. Stepping back to watch the parchment curled and blacked as the fire ate it, the names disappearing. It was with a keen pain in his chest that he watched Ulfr's name be consumed, he and the other's names once again lost in flames.

A long uncomfortable silence followed before Dolgthrasir finally broke the silence from where he stood. "Well, Svior your just a happy ray of sunshine this night, aren't you?" He snorted, shaking off the dark mood, the many shell beads in his dark-hair flashed as he sat down next to his miss-matched eyed brother, who nodded his head in agreement.

"Someone needs a nap," Knuckles snickered from across the fire, as he raised his arms above him for a long pleasurable stretch. It was after that, as if by magic, the dark mood was suddenly broken, the thick tension vanishing as if it had never been.

"Wha?" Svior mumbled in confusion, looking up from where he sat, Nidi kneeling next to him.

"Leave him be," the soft-spoken Dwarf pleaded of the others as he tried to get Svior to drink more water.

Kaya flopped heavily onto a cushion while Gimli posture relaxed and he leaned against the wall again, his arms loosely folded. The cool stone of the wall feeling good against his bare back, the runes, stars and stylized flames painted on his smooth tan skin glowed blue as he listened and laughed with the others again as Knuckles cracked a few jokes.

"_Well, if we all be done with our pity-festival_," Draupnir signed drolly, looking expectantly around the room with a cocked eyebrow before continuing. _"Did any heard about what happened to Bild on his trip through Bree?_" He asked conspiratorially in quick hand motions, mirth glittering in his gold and black eyes.

"Alright Draupnir, spit it out!" Kaya urged after a long pause, Gimli and Knuckles nodding their heads in agreement as they all waited for the mute Dwarf to continue. Next to him, Draupnir's older brother listened knowingly, having heard this story earlier, a hand clamped over his mouth least he brake out laughing as his younger brother began to tell them of poor Bild's misadventures in the back alleys of Bree.

An hour later found the small chamber quiet, the fire burning low, illuminating the young Dwarves scattered around the room, the many dark shadows jumping silently around the room.

In the quiet Gimli sat on a cushion before the fire with his knees drawn up, his arms resting over them as he gazed into the dancing flames, lost in thought. Kaya lay on her stomach next to him, drawing idol patterns in the ash of the fire with a small stick, also lost in thought, her dark eyes half-lidded as her bare feet slowly kicked in the air behind her. Across the fire, Gimli could hear Svior's faint snoring, the drunk Dwarf having past out earlier, Knuckles was sprawled face-down on a pillow, while Draupnir and his brother lay curled nearby, every now and then one would shift in his sleep.

"It's funny." Someone said, shaking him from his inward thoughts.

"What be?" Gimli asked, only moving his eyes to the source of the voice, Kaya also looked up from her idol drawing, but remained silent. His eyes found Nidi watching him from the other side of the fire, reclining on some piled cushions, the snoring Svior sprawled next to him. Gimli's eyebrows rose a bit, surprised since he had thought the petite Dwarf asleep like the others.

"For…for a moment your eyes… They looked like they were full of flames. Like there was nothing but fire inside you." Nidi continued, a thoughtful look in his large honey-brown eyes. Gimli said nothing to that as he turned his dark-brown gaze back to the fire, his mind still mulling over his internal thoughts.

"Gimli?" Came Nidi's soft voice again and he looked up, one eyebrow now cocked in question.

"Do you think what he said is true?" Nidi asked seriously as he gently brushed some of Svior's dark hair off his sleeping face, Svior shifted, but remained asleep. As Gimli watched the other Dwarf, he saw the same haunted look he had seen in his friend's eyes back in Black Hollow.

"I don't rightly know, Nidi. All I do know… is that to me it matters. We will never forget and in the end maybe that is all that matters."

"I know, yet it is just…," he trailed off for a moment, as if trying to find the proper words. "I just feel that all those gone deserve better, there are so few of us and…and… it just does not seem right."

"It is the way of Arda, many will go to their graves nameless and forgotten, good or bad. Legends and stories are for Elvish Lords, beautiful Ladies and noble Kings of Men. Those are the stories people remember, those are the stories people want to hear… to care about. Not about us…not Dwarves," Gimli said tiredly, giving an internal sigh, feeling suddenly so very old.

For many long moments it was silent with the exception of the occasional snap and hiss of the fire, the many dark shadows dancing to some unheard music. After awhile Gimli began to think Nidi had fallen asleep and got to his feet, he was about to turn and make his way to the curtained exit, when he heard Nidi's voice again.

"Gimli?"

"Aye?" He answered, turning to see the smaller Dwarf still awake, reclined next to Svior, still fast asleep. He was stroking the side of the larger Dwarf's face with the back of his fingers, his sad honey eyes gazing lovely upon his mate's sleeping profile, in the end Svior was the only thing Nidi had left, having lost everything in Black Hollow.

"I hope your wrong," Came the final soft reply. It was silent for a long moment before Gimli spoke.

"I hope I'm wrong too," he said simply before he turned and quietly left the room. Kaya getting up and following him out, leaving the sleeping Draupnir, Dolgthrasir, Knuckles and Svior, with the quiet Nidi to look over them and the low burning fire.

----------------------------------

"Do you believe that?" asked Kaya as the two made their way across the massive chamber where they had danced earlier that night. The smooth stone under their bare feet cold, only a few Dwarves to be seen loitering in the echoing space as others began the long cleanup process. "That we are alone, that there is nothing for us after this life?"

For long moments he didn't say anything while he thought about her question as they continued to walk.

"No," he finally said, turning to look at her as they both paused before heavy doors that lead out of the mostly empty chamber. Both of them turned to look back at the towering image of Mahal on the far opposite wall as they stood beneath the beautiful and ethereal image of Yavanna, who seem to smile down on them. With the many bonfires only smoldering embers now, the massive echoing chamber was almost completely dark with only a few crystal lamps for light.

In the soft light of these lamps Mahal's stone visage had transformed, where before in the red and orange light of the roaring fires, the many dark shadows leaping with their dance, his great image had seemed almost sinister and brooding as he glared down upon them as they reveled. Now his face seemed kind and serene, a loving parent fondly watching over his beloved children, seeming to rise up from out of the darkness over them, only his open hand to be seen, his great hammer in the other was hidden in the darkness.

"No," Gimli continued, looking back at her. "I still believe, not so much for my self but…" He momentarily faltered, not finding the proper words before continuing again.

"I have to believe that my family is someplace better, that there is _something_ beyond this life. I have to believe that. But who knows… Perhaps Svior is right and we have been lying to ourselves, that we are just to scarred to admit that there is truly nothing for us," he said with a shrug, looking up at the Yavanna above them before turning again to Dwarrow-dam.

"But I'd gladly give up anything, even my very soul and happily return to nothing but stone and dust if it meant that Mahal and the Valar had a place where my family's souls could live on.

"Yet soul or not, loved or not, we are here. And I'm going to live the life I'm given to it's fullest-- no matter what anyone thinks!" He said fiercely, his eyes flashing with fire. With that the two Dwarves turned their backs to image of Mahal and walked through the grand doors, leaving the dark echoing chamber behind.

It was later that evening, in the last few hours before dawn that found Gimli and Kaya in one of the small high chambers in the upper portion of the Mountain. The medium sized room was bare, having once served as some eccentric Dwarf's observatory, aside from the entrance door there where two heavy stone doors leading out onto a balcony, that could be shut and sealed. The special balcony overlooked a shear side of the Mountain, giving a panoramic view of all the land below as far as the eye could see. Because the balcony was built on this section of the Mountain, it was protected from all invaders, for not even the most talented mountain goat or sneaky goblin could hope to climb the vertical drop. It was also invisible from those below, anyone looking up would no doubt think it only an odd overhang or outcrop of rocks.

Feeling strangely restless and unable to sleep, Gimli silently stood on the balcony, his eyes looking up at the stars, the wind causing his long lose copper-hair to fly and whip behind him like a proud flag. For a long time Gimli stood, uncaring of his nudity, looking out into the vast moonless sky, the stars twinkling in all there jeweled grandeur in their endless sea of night. Behind him in the dark chamber lay the sated form of Kaya on their rumple bed of blankets, sprawled on her back, her dark hair fanned around her, the three aching bite marks on his chest and shoulder from her sharp teeth as testament to her satisfaction.

As it was with most things in their society, a female's satisfaction came first, a male would soon find himself unable to attain a bed mate if he could not properly satisfy a female. Yet unlike most mating by humans and other species, female Dwarves where almost always the dominant when it came to mating, most preferring aggressive love-making, with lots of growls and nipping, injuries where not uncommon when in the throws of passion.

As Gimli's deep-brown eyes looked up towards the heavens, the distant stars seeming to call him as they always had, a faint tug in his chest that he could never figure out. His mind once again wandered back to his words to Kaya and their fate. _Was nothingness really so bad? Was the thought of turning back to nothing but rock and dust so terrible… or was it really something else?_

As he continued to stand their in the dark, the starlight painting his smooth skin a soft blue, the wind playing with his long thick hair, his troubled thoughts again lead him down a reluctant path that few wanted to look down. Unconsciously his broad hands tightened on the thick stone railing of the balcony, the air becoming uncomfortably chill, the wind seeming to whisper things.

For as he stood there, Gimli knew that was not what truly frightened many, after all nothingness would be the ultimate rest. No worries, no cares, just dreamless sleep and eternal darkness_. No, that was not their true fear._

_Maybe in the end it is not the darkness we fear…but to be forgotten. All of our great heroes… our accomplishments… lost._

_Great Durin, the Deathless. The Great Father, mightiest of Kings, founder of Khazad-dum._

_Gamil Zirak, famed smith and teacher. Master of Telchar and maker of many renowned works. Much of her wondrous works to have been found in Thingol's jealously guarded treasuries._

_The legendary Telchar of Nogrod, one of the greatest Smith in the history of Middle-earth. Amongst his great works Angrist, the knife that freed the Silmaril from Morgoth's Iron Crown, the famed sword Narsil and the Dragon-helm of Dor-lomin_

_King Azaghal's noble sacrifice and his many valiant warriors in the battle of Unnumbered Tears. The only ones who could stand up against Glaurung and the terrible wrath of the Dragon-horde._

_The wise Durin III, who Celebrimbor himself gave the greatest of the Seven Rings, Sauron unable to bend him to his will later. Who sent out many warriors to Eregion and the Elven-smith's aide when they where besieged by Sauron._

_Durin the IV, who bravely perished tying to fight the newly awakened Balrog or of his honorable son, Nain I. Who courageously battled the Balrog through the halls of Khazad-dum, holding it off long enough for his son and what remained of their people to flee before he too was killed._

_All those countless Dwarves that gave their lives in the Last Alliance and many other battles against the darkness of Morgoth and Sauron._

_Narvi and all his many great accomplishments, like those of the gilded archway of Azgol and the great West-gate of Moria. His tragic and forbidden love with the equally doomed smith Celebrimbor._

_Thrain I, who lead his surviving people out of the Grey Mountains, back to the kingdom of Erebor._

_Dain the IronFoot, Smighter of Azog at the battle of Azanulbizar._

_All those many valiant Warriors that gave their lives in the Great War of Dwarves and Orcs._

_So many others, great Smiths and Master Artists, Heroes and good people…_

_All of them…. All would be forgotten. Instead, we who had walked under the stars of arda before the rising of the Great Lamps, we who had been living and dieing in this world, forging great cities and creating wonders before the Eldar had left the shores of Cuivienen before the first age. We would only be remembered through the bigoted and distorted eyes of the Elves, as nothing but greedy ugly creatures, as unlovely and dirty, dirt-rats, stunted-ones, Naughrim..._

_Only names like Mim, the murderous smiths who slew Thingol and the sack of Dorath to be told and remembered throughout the ages. To be forever remembered as only that ugly crude drawing in the Elven book Knuckles had stolen. The Elves would live on, safe in the Undying Lands, Men would spread and eventually inherit arda and the Khazad… They would disappear and non would care_.

It made Gimli think about all the different people he saw in the cobble-stone streets of Ocendade, like the starving child, the wounded soldier who begged for spare change, the nameless street performers, the many Women of Lady D's brothel, even the many workers and towns folk of Black Hollow. All of them had their own unique stories, yet they would die and none would remember them, none to hear their stories, none to listen to their experiences. Instead they would become just more forgotten faces in a sea of anonymity.

_We will become like them, the Lost and Unwanted People…_

"What are you thinking about?" Came a smooth voice behind him, shaking Gimli from his dark thoughts. He turned to watch Kaya, now wrapped in a blanket come to stand beside him, her long dark-hair mused from their previous love-making.

"Nothing," He lied, brushing a hand through his long straight hair as he gave her a lopsided smile. The young Dwarrow-dam didn't look convinced, but let it go as she turned to look out over the balcony with him.

"It is too bad that Svior burned Nidi's book, I would have liked to have read it," she said with a big sigh, her dark-eyes taking in the landscape. "Maybe someone else will write about your story one day. The heroic story of Gimli, son of Gloin."

"Maybe through the years it would have found its way into some great library-- like the one I hear is hidden in valley of Imladris or some great kingdom of Men. Perhaps it would have eventually become a play, with lots of grand costumes, props and dramatic music," she mused, a smile on her lips as she give him a playful bump.

At her words Gimli remembered the last play he had seen, remembering when the exotic and dark-skinned Merry had dragged both he and Ursla to a performance of "The Mighty adventures of the Heroic Prince Mortensen and the Quest for the White Princess Livelda". Keenly remembering the image of the older actor with the booming voice who had walked around on his knees, portraying the Dwarf warrior, Rhys. Great mounds of padding stuffed in his tunic and chain mail so he looked fat with a heavy and cumbersome helmet on his head, his homely face carefully made up to look as ugly as possible with a big bulbous nose, warts and big scratchy red-dyed beard as he shuffled around on stage. Huffing and puffing as if greatly out of shape, even though in the original story Rhys was a skilled and healthy warrior. The actor and the strange fat Hobbit-like narrator portrayed him as if he was old, loud and very stupid, instead of the brave and skilled warrior from the original story. They had the supposed "Dwarf" clumsily rolling down hills, falling or floundering on his back like some great over-turned turtle, always having to have someone help him up or come rescue him from the enemy. Messily getting food and spilling his drink in his beard, even so far as whipping his mouth with his beard, which no Dwarf would ever dream of doing; taking far to much pride in the thick silky beards. Watching him act like a complete buffoon as everyone laughed at him, seeming to taking no notice as the other characters insulted him, all the jokes and gags were done at his expense.

In his mind, Gimli suddenly had the imagine of how he would be portrayed if his story was ever to be made into a play as Kaya had said. His face twisted into something ugly, his straight copper-hair suddenly course and unkempt, his fit form suddenly fat and stumpy, no doubt they would get an actor just like the one he had seen in Ocendade to portray him. Clumsily waddling here and there, eating like a complete swine, spilling food and drink into his beard when he was not making foolish declarations or falling down.

_That's right, everyone laugh at the stupid Dwarf! Ha, ha, ha! Its just fat and ugly Gimli, son of Gloin!"_

"By Mahal no!" Gimli cried aloud, violently reeling from the image in utter disgust. "Perhaps it was a good thing Svior burned Nidi's book after all," he said with a painful wince before turning to look at Kaya next to him.

"They would no doubt have me looking worse then Bombur on a bad day!" he joked with a weak smile.

"You don't know that!" Kaya admonished with a laugh, not knowing his dark thoughts.

"Oh yes I do!" Gimli argued good-naturedly before his smile disappeared to be replaced with a resigned expression. "I think I would rather be forgotten then be portrayed that way." He said in all seriousness as he leaned against the cold railing, his eyes troubled.

The smile disappeared from Kaya's face as well as she watched him, picking up that there was more going on in Gimli's mind then Nidi's book or how he would be portrayed in a play. Long moments passed as Kaya watched the attractive male standing next to her, contemplating the fiery being she had for a friend and lover, admiring his tightly muscled and trim form, taking in his distinctive scent, the smell of cinnamon and smoldering fires, with the underlying smell of hot metal.

"Fear not, for non who have truly known you could ever forget you, Gimli," she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching his smooth face. "I know not how…but there is something special about you."

"Well, I am glad you think so," Gimli said with a smile, leaning over and giving her cheek a kiss, his warm breath tickling her skin before he drew back. "Besides… Who would want to hear a story about me?"

"You never know," Kaya said, rewrapping the blanket around herself. After a few moments Gimli spoke again, watching her with a twinkle of something in his eye.

"It matters not, for the fact is… The story of my life, is the story of the people in it."

"Do not begrudge me my musings," she lightly scolded, covering up the fact that she was deeply touched by his sincere words before letting out a dramatic sigh. "I guess that old human saying is true after all; 'From whores, thieves and Dwarves look not for stories of adventure and love! Look to the rich Nobles and poets for whimsical tales of heroic feats! For they are the one's with the coin and time to buy the gilded silver pens to write such things, while the rest of us work our knuckles to the bone and fight for our supper!'" she laughed as she quoted the old saying, Gimli chuckled along with her as he ruefully shook his head.

"That may be so… But I have known whores more pure of heart and deserving of the title 'Noble Lady' then many of those born with the title." He said with a sad smile on his lips as he the thought again about Ursla, Gwen, Mary, Mavis, Draco and Lady D, along with some of the other residents of 'The House of the Red Blossoms'. "I have seen such things… So many people…. Men, both good and bad. A slip of a girl, horribly scarred her face- a mockery, yet still a vision of sweetness and sunlight. Beautiful Elves more lovely then moon-light on silver water, yet with hearts as foul as any goblin. Dwarf warriors who are no better then petty bullies…," He trailed off, looking out at the sleeping towns of Dale and Lake Town, a few lights to be seen in the distance, the dark forest of Mirkwood lay like a thick black carpet beyond.

"My mother has always told me, that the only thing one can truly count on in life is irony. When I was younger I didn't understand her words, now I understand them far to clearly the older I get," Kaya said as she turned to the dark sky above them, pulling the blanket more tightly about her. For many long moments the young Dwarves quietly watched the night sky, the wind playing with their long thick hair, their smooth faces turned up into the light of the stars, their eyes and thoughts far away.

After awhile Kaya finally looked again at the handsome copper-haired Dwarf beside her, her gaze thoughtful as tendrils of her dark hair fluttered over her face, a moment later Gimli turned as well and for awhile they simply gazed at one another. As she admired his strong tan face and his dazzling almond-shaped eyes that burned with such fire, Kaya silently slipped one of her hands out from her warm blanket and reached across the distance to touch his warm face. Ghosting her fingers over his beautiful features, his dark copper-hair whipping behind him in the wind, a few copper strands caressing his smooth face as those dark eye continued to silently watch her.

"No matter what happens, forget not your words," she said barely above a whisper. "So what if none care and we disappear into nothingness, it matters not. So long aswe live, we will care and in the end isn't that all that truly matters?" She asked before she stepped forward and touched her lips to his.

Gimli excepted the soft kiss, deepening it as he fully turned and wrapped his strong arms around her smaller form, drawing her close as she wrapped an arm around his waist, her other roaming along the wide expanse of his chest. His soft coppery mustache and short beard caressed her face, the dark-hair on her chin rubbing against his, their shared body heat driving away the chill as they basked in the other's presence, their warm mouths tasting one another. For long moments they stayed like that, lost in the heat of kiss, their eyes closed, their long hair mingling in the wind as they took comfort in one another, allowing their troubled thoughts to be momentarily soothed away.

When they finally broke apart, Kaya again reached up to caress his warm cheek, a wistful look fluttering over her face before she tucked her hand back into her blanket and stepped away from him. Gimli was not her 'one' and she knew that she was not his, yet that did not stop the stab of disappointment in her heart. Then without a single word she padded back into the darkness of the room, leaving Gimli still standing on the balcony alone. Gimli watched her walk away before laying back down in their improvised bed of blankets, her back to him. Yet she left plenty of room for him and had teasingly left part of her strong back bare to him, which was an obvious invitation.

He would join her, but not just yet. For now he once again turned his large brown eyes to the sea of stars above that cast the vast landscape below in a soothing blanket of peaceful blue. It was then that he gave a delighted gasp as he watched a star shoot across the heavens.

As he stood there, the world seeming to sleep around him, Gimli allowed his mind to wander once again, far away, the light of those distant stars soothing him. Having no idea of the clouds already gathering, a brewing storm on the distant horizon, a storm he would be a part of. Just one of many players, some not even born yet, while others had already live thousands of years. So it was that the Dwarf named for the fire in his heart and the stars above stood alone and waited the coming dawn.

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Oddly enough, in the dark depths of Mirkwood, safely hidden under their trees, the Elves also reveled this night. Though they celebrated not Durin's Day, but the New Moon and the bountiful year, the darkness for the moment seeming to have been driven back. Though many still mourned, the Battle of Five Armies still fresh, their many losses still keenly felt, yet for now they celebrated their good fortune in the past year, which had been better then it had been in many long years.

In large clearing below the dark boughs of the trees the air was filled with enchanted music and soft lights as the Wood-elves danced. Their long limbed bodies swayed and dipped with the lilting music of the wood-interments and lutes as many silvery voices sang along with the airy notes and chimes. Aside from the delicate lamps hung amongst the trees, their were also a few lit cairns to provide light, several long wooden tables where also set up around the glen with many delectable dishes of food and cool drink.

Yet on the borders of the celebration and other strategic positions, hidden within the trees where many armed guards, ever on the look out for threats. For though the year had been good, Dol Guldur in the south abandoned, their once bare armories now almost fully stocked, food and game plentiful again, there were still weary, the Wood-Elves remaining ever vigilant.

From his tall elaborate wooden throne, set in a elevated place of honor sat King Thranduil looking over his people, taking great delight in seeing his people enjoying themselves after so much hardship, a silver cloak draped around his shoulders. His three son, all wearing different crowns of flowers moved amongst the partygoers, clad in princely garb of blues and silver.

Amongst those gathered to enjoy the celebration, clad in a light silver embroidered tunic with a slender crown of purple morning-glories about his dark head, was Legolas. A silver goblet of wine in hand, occasionally stopping to mingle with others, bumping into his brothers every now and then, trying to pretend that he wasn't bored.

A smile broke over his delicate featured face as he past several dancing maidens, their merry laughter ringing like silver bells as they elegantly twirled in perfect sink with each other as the moved. Their graceful movements accentuated by their long uplifted limbs and the sway of their flowing hair as they danced on their toes. They pale bare feet not seeming to touch the ground, they almost seemed to float as they moved like slender reeds in the wind.

Legolas meanwhile had had his fill of dancing and celebrating this night, for some reason he felt oddly restless and wished for some solitude with his own thoughts. He turned and excused himself from his group of friend that stood near one of the cairns that help lite the clearing. Handing his empty goblet to a passing servant, Legolas moved off, catching the momentary sight of poor Galion, serving drinks to Caulndil and Valandil. His two older brothers ignoring the poor butler who was still working to redeem himself before Thranduil. With an internal sigh Legolas continued on, occasionally waving back at a call from his friends in the crowd, but he did not stop.

Earlier, he too had merrily danced, non able to match his grace as he leapt and twirled with the music, a graceful vision of black and flashing silver, drawing more then one admiring gaze from those that had watched, some brave enough to even dance with him. His three siblings had also danced, even Thranduil had allowed himself to be drawn into a few songs, the tall golden-haired King putting all to shame when he moved with the music. For the most part though the King was content to watch, sipping from a long silver goblet of his finest wine, a crown of flowers and berries about his shinning head, his eyes of dazzling sapphire missing nothing.

As the others continued to dance and revel, still merrily talking and laughing in the happy atmosphere, Legolas moved on. Making his way across the lush grass, his soft booted feet not making a sound as he made his way through the crowd, avoiding various obstacles, stopping momentarily to dance with his friend Eilindel. Who pulled him into a fast paced trot with some others couples before he gave her a wink and slipped from her grasp and continue on his way.

Finally coming to the edge of the glen before the dense tree line he made his way to a particular large oak tree that had stood guard over the hidden glen long before the Elves had ever called this forest home. The tree was ancient, its dark bark rough, dwarfing the many birch trees around it, it and the other larger trees created a leafy ceiling above with their interwoven branches, sheltering the Elves and their festivities below.

With effortless ease Legolas leapt to the first branch, some fifteen feet off the ground, his long slender legs propelling him with ease. The slender Wood-elf was just about to bound up to the next branch when one of Thranduil's special invited guests strolled over, looking up at Thranduil's youngest son about to escape.

"Had enough reveling this night have we?" came a familiar voice below. Cousing Legolas to paused and look down, a smile on his smooth face, instantly recognizing that voice.

"I fear so. The stars and the wind now call me this night," he said with a silvery laugh. Sure enough below him stood Gandalf.

"Off star gazing again. Your father would not be pleased," Mithrandir said a smile on his wizen face, a goblet of his father's finest wine in hand, his other holding his ever present staff. He did not wear his tall pointy hat though, his long white hair and beard freshly combed and clean, seeming to glow.

"This I know, but father will not be too cross. For I have fulfilled my duties this night, I even danced with a few of the maidens he's been pushing on me!" he laughed, even though his lilting voice held a note of weariness.

"Now if you'll excuse me Mithrandir," he said with a gracious bow to the Wizard below, but just as he was about to turn the Grey Istary called up again.

"Be careful young Legolas, one day you just might find that you have caught one of those stars you so love to watch. If you do, do not let it escape, for they are fleeting and precious indeed, coming once in even an Elf's lifetime. Yet while you must be sure it does not slip through your grasp, beware not to be burned, for no fire burns greater then that of the stars." The Wizard said mysteriously, a twinkle of something in his ancient storm-grey eyes as he watched to the lithe ebony-haired Prince poised on the branch above him, a look of confusion now on his delicate pale features.

"Fire and Stars, Legolas. Remember that, Fire and Stars!" the Wizard said mysteriously before walking away, a gray cloud amongst the many dancing lights of the Eldar.

Legolas could only watch the Istari move off to join his father, his parting words leaving the Prince confused_. __And to think people say we Elves talk in riddles! They clearly have not met this particular Wizard_," he finally snorted to himself, with an elegant eyebrow arched before leaping up to the next branch above him.

With the grace possessed only by the Wood-elves, he began to climb the massive tree, leaping acrobatically from branch to branch, seeming to dance on the thinner branches that would have snapped under any other creature. Around Legolas the braches seem to sway in time with the music below, the trees seeming to happily hum along with the singing, Legolas couldn't help but smile as he paused for a moment to run his long fingered hand over the rough trunk of the tree he climbed. Feeling the answering thrum, the trees here where truly happy, the forest seeming to bask in the Elves happiness.

Giving the tree a final pat, Legolas continued up, leaving the ground far behind. It was after pushing his way through the final dense canopy of leaves that the young Prince broke through to the night sky above, coming to perch on a convenient bare branch that broke through the thick cover of dark leaves. His pale skin seeming to glow like moonlight in the light of the stars, his emerald-eyes glittering like wet jewels as his hair fell about him like a fall of shadows. With a great breath he let out a sigh of pleasure, the cool night air refreshing him. The many clouds of dark butterflies that would have been seen during the day where gone, leaving only the fireflies to dance above the tree tops. All around him there seem to be a rolling sea of leaves as a pleasant breeze played with his silken hair, every now and then he would reach up to tuck some stray strands behind a delicate leaf-shaped ear.

From his comfortable perch he could admire the dazzling stars above that sparkled in all their grandeur as the fireflies danced around him. It was the night of the new moon, so the night was darker then most, but Legolas could still see with his far-seeing eyes the Lonely Mountain in the distance and the far away lights from Lake Town and Dale. He wondered if anyone else was watching the stars as he did this night, no doubt other Elves else where were doing the same, but he wondered if any Mortal, if they now looked up as he did, could truly appreciate them. _Where they capable of seeing the wondrous beauty of those distant stars as the Eldar did?_

As he turned his emerald eyes to the heavens once more, a sudden gasp escaped his coral lips as he watched a star shoot across the heavens. It was then that an odd shiver suddenly ran up his spine while all the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood up as he watched that star disappear. Around him, the playful breeze had strangely stopped as all the many fireflies suddenly glowed brightly all at once.

Then as fleeting as it had began, it was over, the breeze returning as the fireflies once again continued their dance around the silent and now quite confused Elf in their mists, leaving him wondering at what had just happened.

As Legolas perched there on that high branch, enchanted Elvish singing below and the rustling of the surrounding trees, he continued to peacefully watch the sky above. As he marveled at those distant stars that he so loved, Mithrandir's strange words again come to his mind and he unconsciously began to worry his bottom lip, his jewel-like eyes becoming confused once again.

_Fire and stars… whatever could that mean?_ He thought to himself, a frown marring his lovely features as the leaves rustled around him. Yet no matter which way he thought about it, Mithrandir's final words remained a riddle, leaving him to wonder as he continued to watch the stars above that gave no answer.

One day he would understand Gandalf's odd words…

But that is a story for another time…

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_The End!_

_That's it, its finally over! (jumps up and down in glee)_

_Sorry about the wait. I would have posted this sooner but, I just recently got back from London (long story ). Anyways! I would very much like to thank everyone who has so graciously and generously emailed me and left reviews! Thank you so very much (deep bow)_

(1.) Foundlings: Those of other races that had been adopted and raised by Dwarves. (Which is an idea I got from reading "Shadow Lands" by Alma's Muse

(2.) Drinking-sickness: Alcoholism

Feel free to return to your regularly scheduled Gimli ignoring and Dwarf-bashing fics.

(stepping back into the shadows)


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